The Amulet of Ecranare
by Rebecca Keys
Summary: In which Vlad battles against his inner nature, Robin is very bad at giving gifts, and as always, Chloe is the only one with any sense. The Branaugh siblings stumble upon an ancient slayer's weapon with the power to protect its wearer from vampires, and Robin and Vlad must come to terms with their feelings. Vlad/Robin. Rated M for depictions of sexual themes.
1. Birthday Jitters

This story is dedicated to Starrrz, whose excellent Young Dracula stories inspired me to write my own.

* * *

Two loud knocks split the morning air. Vladimir Dracula's blood ran cold as the door to the tower bedroom burst open, and Renfield's unsightly grin peered around the doorjamb.

"Happy Birthday, Master Vlad. Your father is— Oh!" Vlad did his best to stash the evidence beneath his pyjama shirt, but by then it was too late. Renfield blinked, taking in the hastily covered bulge in Vlad's lap with a blank stare, though shock soon gave way to understanding.

The manservant brought his hands to his eyes in a belated show of deference; still, Vlad caught him peeking through warty fingers.

"Renfield, do you mind?" Vlad clutched at the fabric of his duvet. His neck and ears burned under the scrutiny. "What is the point of knocking if you don't even wait for permission to enter?"

Renfield cringed. "My apologies. It won't happen again." He flashed uneven yellow teeth in a lewd approximation of a smile. "Though I must say, your Highness, you have nothing to be ashamed of. I'm sure your father would be pleased to hear that you…."

"The Count," Vlad gritted out, "is not to be informed of any of this. Is that clear?"

"Yes, of course," Renfield said, finally tearing his gaze from Vlad's lap. "The Master is downstairs, awaiting your arrival."

"Tell him I'll be right down." Vlad's mouth was dry as dust. "And nothing else."

The manservant bowed deeply. "Of course." Renfield made a swift retreat; but not before shooting Vlad one last lascivious smirk.

When it was safe, Vlad uncrossed his knees, carefully pried the fabric of his shirt up and over his charge's head, and lifted the kitten to nose-level. He stared into its big, innocent blue eyes.

"That was close." He shuddered to think of what had very nearly become of the poor thing.

He placed the cat on the bed, untying the blood-red bow around its fragile neck with shaking fingers. Raising his hand in front of the kitten's wide, empty stare, Vlad snapped his fingers.

The feline's pupils sharpened into thin slits. It yawned daintily, stretching its front legs and digging its tiny claws into the duvet. It seemed unconcerned with how close it had been to certain death just moments before.

Sensing its newfound freedom, the kitten wiggled its hindquarters, leaping to the floor. It scampered across the room and, with one last curious look in his direction, dove behind the curtains.

And with that, his humiliation was complete. Vlad groaned, sagging against his pillows. It seemed a fitting beginning for what would almost certainly be the worst day of his un-life. So far, his brain unhelpfully supplied.

He'd awoken that morning the same way he had all week: by falling with a crash onto his bed. Only this time, upon rolling over to check the time, he had found himself face to face with a cat, of all things.

It had come with a sarcastic card from his sister—practice makes perfect; Bon Appetite!—which Vlad had promptly set ablaze.

Biting the damn thing hadn't even been an inkling in his mind; at least, until the kitten jumped onto his bed and tried crawling up his shirt. The sound of the kitten's heartbeat had overwhelmed him, made him ache… and then, before he knew it, he'd had his face buried in its fluffy jugular.

If Renfield hadn't interrupted him right when he had…. Vlad put his head in his hands. He was out of control.

The past week he'd already had one or two awkward encounters with Robin, not to mention the postman; and Chloe... and the librarian. True, no one had gotten hurt. At least, not yet.

He took a deep lungful of air, and counted to ten, thinking of the breathing exercises that he and Robin had practiced the week before. They had found them on the internet, and hoped focusing on the breath might help Vlad manage his cravings—at least for the time being, since, as Chloe had been quick to point out, Vlad wouldn't be doing much breathing in a week.

Vlad's stomach growled loudly, making its own thoughts on the matter very clear.

He glanced sullenly across the room toward where the kitten, having discovered an old pair of trainers, had promptly declared war on the laces, and was now tumbling over itself in its effort to extricate its claws.

A beam of sunlight shone through the curtains, casting the edges of the kitten's white fur in a soft halo.

Vlad crossed to the window, interrupting the beam with his hand. He half-expected to see smoke, but, to his relief, the only sensation was a soothing warmth against his skin.

He still had time.

Vlad shoved the curtains aside, propping his elbows against the window ledge, and allowed himself to bask in the gentle heat of the morning sun.

The sun. That was what he'd miss the most, Vlad decided. He sighed, resting his chin on his hand, gazing out at the garden. On any other day, it would have been beautiful.  
He tugged at his lower lip with his fingers absentmindedly. His knuckle grazed against something sharp. His stomach sank.

Reluctantly, he slid the curtains shut, once more surrounded by darkness. Crossing to his mirror, he grimaced; it hadn't been his imagination, then. There, glinting in the torchlight, were two pairs of wickedly sharp fangs.

Well.. that was new. Hesitantly, Vlad pushed the pad his finger against the tip of one canine and winced as it came away red.

Another minute passed as Vlad stared at himself. It was strange how, apart from the teeth, he still looked for all the world like the anxious, fearful teenager that he was. There was no sign whatsoever of the evil, bloodthirsty killer that lurked within. He thought about what had happened to Boris, and shivered.

He wiped at his treacherous eyes with the back of his hand. These were his last few hours of being human. Best not to sully the memory with tears.

* * *

By the time Vlad started down the stairs, scuffing his heels along the stone steps as he went, he was in a right, proper sulk. It wasn't fair—in a way, vampires had to go through puberty twice.

If only the "changes" his body was going through now were more like the normal, teenage breather variety. Getting spots, or hair in strange places, he could handle. He snorted at the thought.

If only Renfield had caught him wanking, instead of attempting to destroy an innocent baby animal. Vlad honestly would have preferred it.

He rounded the corner, running straight into his father. The Count grinned happily at the sight of him. "Good morning, my favorite child. Now... let me see those fangs!"

Vlad glared at Renfield, who shook his head emphatically from the side of the hall and drew an 'X' solemnly over his heart.

The Count tugged Vlad's jaw to get a closer look. Vlad resisted, pursing his lips. Although normally he put up with his father's antics, the last thing he wanted was to draw even more attention to his approaching doom.

His father's eyes glowed red in warning. "Vladimir…"

Vlad sighed, but at the look on his father's face reluctantly opened his mouth.

The Count tugged his chin from side to side, tutting appreciatively. "Wonderful, wonderful! They look so good on you." Vlad said nothing, and the Count shot him a pointed look. "Vampire, Vlad" he said, stretching out the word. "Say it with me. There's no point in denying it, today of all days."

"Then spare me the lecture, emtoday of all days/em," Vlad grumbled. The Count wagged a finger at him.

"Tick tock, Vladdy. Tick. Tock. And speaking of; would you look at the time? The bell should be tolling any minute, now." The Count rubbed his hands together. "Well, what are you waiting for?" He waved impatiently in the direction of the dining room table. "Sit, sit sit sit. Eat your breakfast."

Vlad took as long as possible crossing the room to his seat. He couldn't wait for Robin to get here. He could use a dose of normalcy, right about now.

Although in Robin's case... Well, he supposed normality was relative.

His spirits perked a little when he noticed the table was piled high with gifts. He'd even gotten one from Ingrid, judging by the wrapping (black leather studded with wooden spikes), which honestly surprised him. Not the hostile packaging, of course, but… when was the last time Ingrid actually bothered getting him two gifts?

He supposed it would be something disgusting, like a dead rat, or worse: A live one.

Vlad's eyes met Will's from across the table. He was whispering something to Ingrid, who looked unusually pensive this morning. Her frown quickly swapped for a scowl the moment she noticed him looking.

Vlad licked at his teeth absent-mindedly. He was hungry, damnit. And his gums ached.

They'd been bothering him for weeks—not that he'd said anything about it. His father would have thrown a party. Still, the last few days it had gotten really bad. After this morning, Vlad still wasn't sure which was worse: the pangs, or the fangs.

He resisted the urge to wallow in self-pity. It was a struggle.

Unable to put it off any longer, Vlad took his seat at the table, staring witheringly down at the reddish-brown sludge in his bowl. "What is emthat/em?" he sniffed at it suspiciously, though the strong whiff of iron made its identity unmistakable.

He squirmed in his chair. He hated to admit it; but whatever was in that bowl smelled amazing.

"That'd be pig's blood and otter's bile, Master Vlad," Renfield piped up from the side of the room. "Freshly harvested. With just a hint of cinnamon." He grinned. "The Master said you wouldn't be wanting any solid food."

The Count appeared beside him, cape twirling. "You know, Vlad, this was my favorite home-cooked recipe as a fledgling. It'll clear that tooth discomfort right up."  
Vlad slouched deeper in his chair.

"You're not the first vampire who's ever had to go through the transformation." The Count rolled his eyes. "Besides, you keep licking your teeth. It's obvious." He gestured at Vlad's bowl. "Drink up. You'll be needing your strength."

Vlad pushed the bowl away in feigned disgust. "I don't feel much like eating." He wrinkled his nose. "I'm not hungry."

His stomach chose that moment to loudly announce its disagreement to the room. Ingrid sniggered at him from across the table.

"Idiot. Who are you trying to fool? Your fangs are in, you've got to be starving." An angelic expression spread over her pale features. "Unless… you've already eaten?" Ingrid smiled sweetly. Vlad glowered at her. "What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?"

It took all of Vlad's willpower not to lunge across the table. His nails dug painfully into his palms.

The doorbell rang. Vlad leapt up, grateful for the excuse to escape his sister's insinuations. "That'll be Robin."

The front doors swung open as he approached, creaking loudly. His visitor beamed at him.

"Today's the day, Vlad!" Robin's smile faltered somewhat at the foul look on Vlad's face. He quickly changed the subject. "Did you get a lot of presents, then?"

Vlad shrugged. "Yeah, I guess."

Robin cleared his throat awkwardly, and jerked a thumb back in the direction of the castle gates. "I'm not sure how I ever make it to the front door these days. I'm pretty sure the castle spends its spare hours plotting new ways to kill me."

As if by way of answer, a loud, evil cackle rose up from the castle grounds, the sky momentarily darkening as storm clouds crackled ominously overhead.

Vlad lips twisted into a grin. "I'd say not to take it personally, but… it's definitely personal."

Robin laughed.

Vlad's neck pricked with guilt; he was being a complete git, and he knew it. "Sorry. Today's just..."

"I know." Robin smiled, patting Vlad's shoulder. "Come on, your dad's probably going nuts in there without you."

Vlad barked out a laugh, a sarcastic retort already forming on his lips, but before he could utter a word a wave of Robin's scent hit him straight on.

The teen's face looked fuzzy- a bit blurred at the edges, as if surrounded by a fine, pink mist.

Vlad's mouth watered. Unbidden, his gaze wandered drawn to a small patch of skin just barely visible above his friend's collar.

Distantly, he registered that someone was speaking, but he couldn't make sense of any it; not over the sound of his prey's heart.

* * *

Robin rolled his eyes. Vlad was doing it again—staring at him like he was fresh meat. The vampire stepped toward him, as if in a trance. Robin sighed.

"Vlad, snap out of it. You have to breathe." He shoved at the other boy's chest with all of his weight, but it was no use—Vlad was like a rock, impossible to budge. A thrill went through him as Vlad's hand shot out and gripped him by the wrist.

Privately, Robin thought the whole 'predatory' look was rather fetching on him, but knew Vlad would never get over himself if he slipped up and bit him.

Pity, really.

Vlad's hand clamped like a vice on Robin's shoulder, shaking him from his thoughts.

A shiver ran through him. What was he doing just standing there? Robin bit his lip, fully aware of how badly this could end if he didn't do something quick, and draw back his free arm, using the added momentum to slap Vlad smartly across the face.

For a moment, the vampire's face twisted in rage; but it was gone in a flash. In its place was a look of pure bewilderment. Robin breathed a sigh of relief.

It was strange, Robin thought to himself as he waited. This wasn't the first time this had happened; not even the first time this week. Even so, this time was somehow different. Vlad was different.

Vlad's hand was still gripping tightly at his shoulder, nails pricking painfully at the tender skin beneath his collar. Robin shivered, his thoughts on the bottle Chloe had stashed in the inner pocket of his jacket. Though Robin never once doubted that he could escape if he really wanted, for the first time he found himself grateful for his sister's paranoia.  
It was taking much longer than it usually did. The other times Vlad had gone beserk, he'd come back to his senses in a matter of seconds. Robin frowned, surprised to find himself out of breath. It was almost like he was afraid, except... well, whatever he felt, he didn't think it was fear. Not fear, exactly.

Vlad's eyes widened, and he snatched his hand away from Robin as quickly as if it were burned. "All right?" Robin asked.

"...Robin?"

"Yeah. It's still... just me."

* * *

The first thing Vlad noticed was Robin's nose, which seemed to be taking up much more of his visual field than usual. He'd never realized Robin had so many freckles.

The second thing was a pair of dark brown orbs staring down at him.

Vlad's stomach lurched, and he realized just how tightly his hand was curled over Robin's collarbone. He leapt backward, eager to put some distance between them. "All right?"

Robin asked.

Vlad covered his mouth as a dull flush spread all the way to his ears. How long had they been standing there like that? "Robin?" he squeaked between his fingers.

"Yeah, it's still... just me."

"I am so sorry. It's been..." Vlad pulled his hand away and stared at the ground. "It's been one hell of a day."

"The transformation has started already, hasn't it."

Vlad shot a guilty look up at Robin. Robin's expression was hard to read, though he didn't seem angry. More... aware. Like he was seeing him for the first time.

Vlad swallowed. That was two near misses, today. There wouldn't be a third.

"You should leave," he muttered, looking past Robin's shoulder. "It's not safe for you here—it was stupid to invite you." When Robin didn't budge, Vlad bared his fangs at him.

"Go home, Robin."

A goofy grin lit up Robin's face. "Aw, your fangs came in, then? They look great."

"I said go." The words rumbled deep in his chest, taking on a supernatural edge.

Vlad's eyes widened, and he brought a hand to his Adam's apple self-consciously. He hated when his voice did that. He coughed. "Please, Robin." Great. Very scary, Vlad.

Robin snorted. "As if you could get rid of me."

Vlad hissed, but Robin quickly fished a small spray bottle from his breast pocket and brandished it in front of Vlad's nose. "Might want to rethink your tactics, my fiendish friend. You should know I'm armed."

Vlad's head spun as he caught a whiff of its contents. Garlic.

"Like that, do you? That's not all." Robin leaned closer with a conspiratorial wink, pulling his collar aside and exposing his neck even further.

"Don't…" Vlad croaked. It was then that he noticed the huge amulet hanging around his best friend's throat. "What... is that?"

Affixed to the amulet's center was a tiny red stone, surrounded by dozens of concentric rings of silvery wire. The medallion itself was suspended by a thick chain.  
Vlad's brows lifted into his hairline. "Is that…?" He frowned disapprovingly. "You didn't get that from the Van Helsings, did you?"

"Do I look like an idiot?" Robin paused. "Don't answer that. Chloe and I ordered it last week, just came in this morning." His eyes lit up. "It's pure argentallium—one hundred percent biter-proof. Do you like it?"

He tucked the amulet back under his shirt, the motion drawing Vlad's gaze once more to the lily-white skin of his friend's collarbone. With some effort, Vlad managed to refocus on Robin's face.

"Trust me," the taller boy was saying with a confidence Vlad wished he shared, "I've never been safer."

Sadly, Vlad thought, that much was probably true. Still, that didn't mean he had to like it.

"Are you sure it's worth missing your exam for this?"

Robin snorted in amusement. "My C in Trigonometry isn't going anywhere. Besides, you couldn't pay me to miss this."

Vlad wanted to argue, but knew it wouldn't do him any good. Robin had made up his mind, and that was that.

Robin noticed the change in Vlad's demeanor, and patted Vlad's head patronisingly. "No more excuses, I'm coming in."

As they stepped into the hall, the castle gleefully slammed the doors behind them, striking Robin in the bottom in the process and causing him to topple over. Vlad wisely remained quiet as Robin scrambled to his feet.

"Ow… fucking bitch of a castle…."

Robin kept up an impressive litany of swears the entire way back to the hall. He was only making it worse for himself, Vlad knew. The castle had a long memory.  
Vlad didn't know what he had ever done to deserve a friend like Robin.


	2. Evil

"Vlad! For garlic's sake, what _took_ you so long?" The Count nodded curtly at Robin as they entered—the highest form of praise Robin had thus far managed to elicit from the older vampire—before looking his son over with a doting expression. "Are you ready, Vlad? The time is nearly upon us. Aren't you just brimming with excitement? I know I am." Over his shoulder, Ingrid made a barfing gesture, and Will chuckled appreciatively.

For once in his life, Vlad didn't feel like arguing with his father. He settled on mild sarcasm.

"Could be worse," he muttered as he sank into the seat next to Robin. "Haven't felt like terrorizing any villagers, yet."

The Count patted him on the head. "Not to worry. That'll come with time."

"Ha, ha. Very funny."

The Count tutted. "It's really not as bad as you're making it out to be. Just look at what being evil did for my own devilish good looks." He gestured to himself, eyeing Vlad with a wicked smile and steadfastly ignoring Ingrid's sudden coughing fit. But behind the veneer of humour, Vlad thought he spotted a hint of something else in his father's eyes. Something old, and sad.

For one strange moment, Vlad found himself wondering about how the Count had felt, centuries ago, about his own transformation. He'd never talked about it before. Had he been nervous? Frightened, even?

His father seemed to have made up his mind about something, however, and leaned in, interrupting Vlad's train of thought. "I know you haven't quite been as thrilled about this day, as I have." The Count winced, as if the words physically pained him. Vlad raised an eyebrow.

 _Understatement of the century._

Apparently, his father wasn't as oblivious as he pretended to be, because a moment later, he sighed, adding: "Whatever happens in there today, Vlad, it's going to turn out… all right. You'll still be—" he hesitated. " _You_ , at the end of it."

It was a lie, and they both knew it. Still, despite himself, Vlad was touched by his father's efforts. At least he was trying. "Thanks, Dad. That... means a lot, coming from you."

"Oh, barf," Ingrid drawled. "What does a girl have to do to get some proper entertainment around here?"

As if on cue, the castle bell began to toll. Robin and the Count both sprang to their feet.

Vlad's heart clenched. He wasn't ready.

But then, he supposed he never would be.

* * *

He found himself being escorted from the room by his father, with Robin, Ingrid and Will trailing closely behind.

As they turned the corner, Vlad caught his sister staring at him.

Ingrid's mouth was curled into a grimace. Still, Vlad couldn't help but notice she was clutching Will's hand tighter than strictly necessary.

Despite his better judgment, he felt some of his anger at her so-called "gift" from that morning dissipating.

He remembered how badly Ingrid's own transformation had gone three years ago; how Ingrid's evil reflection had chased them around the school, and nearly killed Will back when he was still human.

 _If even Ingrid is worried_ , Vlad thought, _what chance do I have_?

"Does it hurt?" Vlad asked her quietly, drifting to one side as they descended the staircase to the basement.

To his surprise, she answered. Ingrid seemed to be choosing her words very carefully. "More than anything you could imagine."

"Do you really think I'm going to be evil?"

Ingrid looked thoughtful. " _It_ definitely will be. But you?" She smirked. "You don't have it in you." After a moment, her smile slipped. "Well—probably not, anyway."

Vlad swallowed. It wasn't the most reassuring response he could have gotten, although he supposed he should be grateful for her honesty.

He started in on his breathing exercises once more, as they descended the final staircase to the mirror room, and arrived at a set of heavy wooden doors guarded by two large suits of armour.

Beyond those doors lay everything Vlad had always reviled in himself. Everything he had sworn he would never become. He took an even deeper breath—let it out again, took another—but the gnawing ache in his chest refused to subside.

"Go on, my son," the Count murmured in his ear, gripping his arms from behind. "Your destiny awaits."

Vlad stiffened. He had been wrong. He couldn't do this.

A different, warmer hand landed on his forearm. Robin's gaze locked with his.

"You're stronger than some bully reflection, Vlad." The teen cowered a bit under the force of the Count's glare, but pressed on. "You've got to fight it with everything you have, and you have to win."

Ingrid rolled her eyes. "There's nothing to _win_ , blood bag; and nothing to lose." She eyed her brother. "Your evil self has always been a part of you. The mirror doesn't do anything but reveal what is already inside."

The Count nodded. "I loathe to admit it, but... your dreadful sister is correct. For once."

Ingrid and the Count glared at each other.

"Enough," Vlad snapped. "I can't concentrate with the lot of you bickering." When the others fell quiet, he added, "And you're wrong, Ingrid." He stared at the door. "I have everything to lose."

The Count stepped back. "Guards, open the doors!"

Vlad's eyes squeezed shut as the knights raised their swords and the doors creaked open. "Just… give me a second."

Robin leaned into his side. "Take as long as you need." His palm grazed the back of Vlad's hand as he spoke, shocking him and causing the hairs on his neck to stand on end.

Vlad took one last deep breath, savoring the rush of oxygen—the feel of his heart, the way his pulse pounded in his ears and hands.

As the door sealed shut behind him, he rubbed at the spot on his hand where Robin had touched him, and found himself wondering, of all things, whether vampires or humans were better conductors of electricity.

 _That's it. I'm officially a nutter._

"You've got this, Vlad!" Robin's voice was muffled by the thick wooden door. Vlad turned, reluctantly, spotting the huge mirror at the far left wall.

 _And officially doomed_.

* * *

Up close, the mirror looked nothing like glass.

It was more like the surface of a very still lake. As Vlad stared, the metal seemed to swim, the torchlight swirling in beautiful eddies across the mirror's face.

He felt sure that if he touched it, his hand would become submerged in its silvery depths.

A sudden movement in the mirror caught his eye. Ah, yes: the reason he was here.

At first, it was just his own face, staring back at him. Then, something in his appearance shifted, and his face looked older—thinner, perhaps? Definitely paler. The man in the mirror was wearing different clothes, for some reason; and he was smirking.

Vlad felt his shackles rise; he was pretty sure he'd never made an expression quite like that in his entire life.

Then, the man—it—spoke.

"Look at you. You're trembling." Its smirk grew wider. "How… adorable."

Vlad shivered. He didn't care what Robin thought. His face, with those fangs, made for a horrible combination.

"I don't know—I think they make us look rather dashing." Vlad's eyes widened. It could read his mind?

"Unfortunately, yes," the thing replied; it looked genuinely disturbed by the thought. "I've been in your head this whole time, you know. I had to suffer through every guilt trip, every sulk, every nauseating little daydream."

Vlad refused to be intimidated. "If you're really me, then you know exactly what I think of you. And you also know that I'm not going to let you hurt my friends."

His reflection laughed. "But it would be so much fun!"

Vlad glared, and the thing shrugged. "Must you always be such a kill-joy?" It gave him a sidelong look. "Have you considered killing people, instead?"

"I'm not going to be evil," Vlad said, struggling to remain calm, "and I'm not going to kill anyone. Nothing you do or say is ever going to change that."

"Boring, boring, _boring_!" The reflection's eyes glowed an alarming shade of yellow. "I'm growing tired of your endless whining, breather-lover." It cracked its knuckles. "Now stand back—this is going to hurt a lot."

Vlad resisted the urge to retreat; he refused to give it the satisfaction.

The mirror began to ripple, his reflection pushing with both hands against the mirror's surface, which bucked and stretched under the pressure.

Before Vlad knew it, his evil half was standing before him.

"I can't wait to show you the future that's in store for us. We're going to be such a great team." The reflection chuckled; its expression was almost fond. "I've been waiting for this day for too long."

Vlad couldn't imagine anything more terrifying than whatever it was that was causing his reflection to smile like that. He stood a bit taller, despite the quivering in his knees, and offered the monster both hands. "I won't fight you," he said, his breath shaking. "I don't have to, because I'm going to win."

His reflection reached for him obligingly, then stopped halfway. The whites of its eyes faded, until they were completely black.

"You'll find I'm incredibly patient, love." Vlad shuddered at the term of endearment, and the thing grinned appreciatively at Vlad's obvious discomfort. "We are going to be together forever, remember?" It said, voice soft. "It doesn't matter if you win today, or the next day, or the next. I will always find you. I will be with you for every moment. You can't run from who you are."

Vlad looked down, suddenly unable to meet his reflection's dark and empty eyes. Deep down, he knew his reflection was right. Forever was a long, long time.

The monster continued, "And what you are—what you will _always_ be—is a vampire." It hissed, inching its hands closer to Vlad's own. Vlad's were shaking. "And have you forgotten the very first rule of being a vampire?" The thing cocked its head, all traces of a smile gone.

But Vlad was distracted. He sniffed at the air; what was that smell? Vlad looked around the room. It was absolutely gorgeous—like freshly baked bread, sausages frying in the pan, and a large, steaming bowl of beef stew, all rolled into one, except it was so much more than that.

Vlad's vision darkened; the room faded away, replaced by green grass. It was night, and he was standing somewhere at the edge of the castle grounds.

He jumped backward, face twisting in despair.

Strewn around his feet were dozens of corpses. Among them were the faces of his friends: Robin, Chloe, all of the Branaughs, their bodies bent and broken. Their skin was a sickly shade of grey. Dark fluid oozed steadily from their mouths and ears.

Vlad's hands felt strangely wet; he glanced down, alarmed to discover a bloody mound of flesh clutched tightly in his right hand. It was still beating—a human heart.

Slowly, Vlad realized, as he grew pale with horror, that this was the source of that beautiful smell.

His mouth watered, even as his gut roiled with disgust. He wiped at his lips, and found them covered in some sort of sticky fluid.

His hand came away red.

"NO!"

The mirror room shuddered back into view. He was sweating. "I will never hurt the people that I love!"

His reflection smirked.

"But you will drink blood. And you will love it more than you have ever loved anyone." His reflection reached for his hands a second time. "Stop fighting it, Vlad. Their blood will set you free."

He wasn't sure why, or how, but something in the way the reflection said it made Vlad's thoughts fall into place, the fog in his head clearing. Of _course_.

For the first time, Vlad smiled at his reflection, showing his teeth. Its eyes narrowed at him. "Your mind's gone quiet. Why are you smiling?"

Vlad laughed. "Because you've forgotten the first rule of being me."

With that, Vlad reached out and grabbed his opponent's hands, pulling him in. Their skin fused where their hands touched, and they shrieked in shared agony, the sound itself merging as their bodies melted together.

The torture seemed to go on forever; Vlad's screams echoed through the hall, until he could no longer even tell if he _was_ screaming over the sound of the pain. Hours could have passed, or minutes.

And then, just like that… it stopped. Vlad opened his eyes. He heard shouting, and the sound of someone pounding on the door. The room spun before him, coming in and out of focus. And then, his world went black.


	3. Waking Up

A low buzzing droned in Vlad's left ear. He turned his head away from the sound, brow furrowing as his throat throbbed. _Thirsty…._ The buzzing followed.

He hissed at it, rubbing his eyes. The buzzing got louder, and louder still, until it had grown to a dull roar inside his skull.

The buzzing seemed to be travelling in circles overhead; he moaned, covering his ears.

"Shut it!" He shouted at whoever-it-was, whimpering as his voice clamored outward in waves that echoed off the walls and bounced in rings around him. It felt like water, ebbing and flowing over his body in a steady rhythm.

Vlad waved a hand experimentally, feeling the drag on his arm as it moved this way and that.

Was that air? Was this sound?

The buzzing grew deafening, then, and he sat up, snarling, searching for the source of the awful racket.

He blinked. It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the blinding light of a nearby torch, and at first, he saw nothing. The room was empty except for him.

Bit-by-bit, his world came into focus. Then, he spotted it: far above his head, zooming toward a far corner of the room was a small black fly.

Its motion seemed sluggish, somehow, as if the creature was flying through honey instead of air. Still—it was strangely beautiful. Vlad found himself wishing he could examine it more closely.

And just like that, he was. One moment, he was sitting and clutching at his temple, and the next he was crouched on the ceiling, his face centimetres away from the small creature.

He stared in awe at its gossamer wings, which radiated every color imaginable. Its head was grotesque, and covered in thick black hairs. Its eyes were split into a thousand tiny facets, which sparkled like purplish-green gemstones.

Vlad tore his gaze away from the creature and stared down—up?—at the floor. He felt deeply disoriented. How long had he been hanging like this?

His brow furrowed. He wondered why his head wasn't pounding. Surely the blood would have gone to his head by now?

Vlad stiffened as realization hit. The transformation.

He fell to the ground, surprised when he landed smoothly on his feet. He grabbed his wrist. Nothing. He pressed two fingers to his throat, and waited: his heart had stopped. Which could only mean one thing.

No. _No, no,_ no….

Vlad's eyes squeezed shut, and his knees nearly buckled as despair set in.

And then, a miracle happened. There, against his fingertips, so light he almost missed it, he felt a very faint thud.

Vlad's ears perked. He waited another minute, certain he must have imagined it. But it wasn't a dream—nearly two whole minutes after the first thud, he felt another.

So. Vampires _did_ have a heartbeat. Just… an incredibly slow one.

Vlad sat there, stunned. Now that he thought about it, it made some sort of sense. After all, vampires had blood, didn't they? That blood had to get around their bodies somehow. He really should have paid more attention in his father's vampire biology lessons.

Still—the discovery that his heart could still beat was highly encouraging.

The second shock came when Vlad's thoughts turned to breathing, only to remember that he wasn't.

Curious, Vlad took a deep, bracing lungful of air. It was strange—his ribs expanded, and oxygen flowed in, but it didn't bring the same rush that it normally would. It felt a bit like breathing water, only without the risk of choking. He held his breath for several minutes, just to see what would happen. Even though he was expecting it, he was still amazed when the pressing need for air never came.

An ear-splitting thunder wrenched the quiet, shaking the floor beneath him. Vlad swayed on his feet. _An earthquake_? He thought wildly. _In Wales?_

Eventually the pain lessened somewhat, and he pulled his hands away from his ears. The sound morphed. He concentrated, and it began to vaguely resemble speech.

" _!_... Ad?…. Vlad!" The sound sharpened into what was definitely a man's voice. Vlad struggled to make out the words.

"… hear me? Say …. You've gone quiet."

 _Robin_.

* * *

Vlad stood straighter, brushing the dirt from his trousers. He spared one last furtive glance at the blood mirror.

His reflection was gone, so he must have merged with it already. Vlad squinted; he couldn't shake the feeling that he was forgetting something important. He thought hard about the events that had transpired since entering the room.

But, try as he might, he couldn't quite bring the details of the memory into focus. There was a conversation—he had definitely spoken with someone. Someone who had looked just like him….

That would have been his reflection. But what had they talked about?

 _Shouldn't I feel more… evil?_ He peered down at his chest, suddenly suspicious. How would he know if he was evil, anyway?

He still had no desire to kill anyone, or tear anyone to pieces. Had the merge failed, somehow?

"Vlad! Open up!" That was his father.

 _Oh, right._

Vlad turned in the direction of the door, and a split second later, stood blinking in confusion with his hands pressed against it.

That would take some getting used to.

He pushed, careful not to overdo it. The doors creaked as the turned on their hinges, and then Vlad was face to face with his father.

"Look at you!" The Count smiled broadly, approaching with spread arms. Ingrid and Will were nowhere to be seen. "At last, the dashing villain emerges, triumphant!"

Vlad sniffed, an odd sense of déjà vu coming over him as the most enticing aroma of his life washed over him. He glanced around with wide eyes, and spotted Robin, who was standing just to the left of the door.

Robin's hands were in his pockets, and he was looking Vlad over with an unreadable expression.

Vlad could hear his heartbeat, echoing loud and steady in the large room; could count every freckle on his face and neck. Robin's bottom lip was oddly dented, as if he'd had been chewing on it for hours.

Maybe he had been? "How long was I in there, for?"

But before Robin could answer, he was enveloped in a stiff embrace. "I always knew you could do it, Vlad! There was never a doubt in my mind."

"Thanks, Dad," Vlad muttered, impatient. He couldn't take his eyes off his friend. How had he never noticed how… soft Robin looked around the edges? Fragile, even.

He could smell Robin's sweat. Was he nervous? The other boy's lips were moving—oh. He was saying something.

"…couldn't believe it. You were screaming for nearly twenty minutes straight." Vlad stared. "Hey, are you feeling all right? You look different." Robin's eyes widened, and he held up his hands. "I mean, you look good. Great, even." He smacked himself in the forehead. "Just… forget everything I just said."

Vlad raised his eyebrows.

A hand came out of nowhere, grabbing Vlad's shoulder. Startled, he twisted, and in a split second had the Count's wrists pinned in a vice-like grip.

Vlad quickly released him. "Sorry."

His father chuckled. "No need to apologize! My son has finally accepted his heritage. I couldn't be more pleased."

Vlad's ears perked at a rustle of clothing coming from his left. "Does this mean you're evil, now?" Robin's voice was calm and careful.

Vlad looked at him. "I— don't know."

"Of course he is," the Count exclaimed, taking hold of Vlad's shoulders. "He's a _Dracula_." He glared in Robin's direction. "And as such, I imagine he'll be wanting nothing more to do with foolish peasant rituals. Vlad's had enough of sleepovers, and…" he shuddered. " _School_."

Vlad opened his mouth to protest, but was interrupted.

"I wouldn't be so sure, father. Vlad's weakness for breathers runs deeper than you might think." Vlad whirled—where had _she_ come from? "Especially for one breather in particular..."

"Nonsense," the Count said, gesturing toward Robin's gangly frame with distaste. " _This_ is just a… phase Vlad's been going through. Isn't that right, Vladimir?"

Vlad ignored his father. "What've you got there?" He asked instead, pointing to the blue parcel tucked under his sister's arm.

"Oh, nothing," Ingrid purred. "Just your birthday gift."

* * *

Robin made a noise that was somewhere between a gasp and a cough; Vlad spared a small glance for him, before becoming distracted once again by the sound of crinkling paper.

Ingrid's fingernail sliced through the giftwrap in one smooth motion, and she smiled sweetly as she held up a small bottle of dark fluid. She uncorked it, passing her hand over the lip and wafting the air in Vlad's direction. "My. What is that smell?"

" _Give it to me_ ," Vlad growled.

"Okay," Ingrid said in a singsong voice, handing him the bottle. He took it eagerly.

"Vlad!" Robin's voice cut like a beacon through the fog of Vlad's mind. "Don't—that's human blood!"

Vlad froze; the bottle was already halfway to his lips. His mouth was watering out of control, and he cursed under his breath.

He knew Robin was right. But Gods, how he wanted it! Reluctantly, he averted his gaze, and held his breath. There—that stopped the smell, at least.

He could do this. Hanging his head, and gripping the bottle tightly, Vlad shoved it toward his sister.

When she didn't take it, he glared at her, lip curling to reveal his fangs. Ingrid straightened, schooling her expression into one of cool disinterest.

"Take it _back_ , Ingrid. I know what you're trying to do, but it won't work." He swallowed, the words hooks in his throat. "I want nothing to do with it."

He risked a glance at Robin, who was giving him a strange look.

Ingrid scowled. "Fine. More for me, then." She grabbed the bottle, corking it swiftly and shoving it in her pocket.

Vlad felt a keen sense of loss at the sight; but he knew in his heart it was for the best.

Ingrid turned on her heels, her cape billowing out behind her. "I'm going back to sleep," she called out behind her, but no one paid her any mind. "Later, losers."

The Count turned to his son, a pleading look in his eye."Now, now; there's no need to get so worked up over a little spot of blood. You absolutely need to feed on someone soon, or you'll perish." He glanced at Robin briefly, then shook his head with a vague look of disgust. "We can go out and hunt together, tonight, under the full moon. How about it, mm? Just the two of us?"

Vlad's glanced at him sharply. "I won't eat humans." The Count's eyes glowed red—but whatever he had been about to say, he seemed to think better of it.

"Of course. There's a fine selection of local livestock nearby that may be more to your liking. We can be off as soon as the sun has set."

Vlad hesitated, considering his offer. "I'll… think about it." He looked around, a thought occurring to him. "Where's Renfield? I'd like to have a word with him."

The Count looked at his nails. "He'd better be ironing my cloak for tonight. If you see him, would you kick him in the teeth for me?"

Vlad turned to Robin, offering him a hand. "Shall we go find him?"

"Is it really you, then?" Robin asked. He gave Vlad a searching look. "You're not just pretending, like Boris?"

Vlad gave him a cautious smile. "I'm pretty sure Boris was just an idiot." That startled a laugh out of Robin.

They grinned at each other. "I don't know what if I could have done it without your help," Vlad said modestly.

"I'm sure you would have been fine."

Vlad laughed in disbelief. "Did you just turn down a compliment?"

The Count rubbed his temple. "Would you two _please_ take this ghastly conversation upstairs? I'm growing weary of the breather's calming influence." He gripped the bridge of his nose. "You disappoint me, Vlad. We really must talk about your unfortunate penchant for the company of peasants. For now, however, I think I will retire to my chambers…." Before he left, he shot Vlad one last conspiratorial wink. "I will see you at sun-down."

"Right." Vlad said, giving him a quick thumbs up. When his father was gone, he leaned in close to Robin's ear and whispered, "Come on—I have a plan, but I need to check something first."

Robin nodded, muttering a quick "After you, then," and gesturing for him to take the lead.

Vlad couldn't fail to notice Robin's cheeks had turned an odd shade of pink.

 _Interesting._

His stomach felt strange, as if tiny bats had taken up residence inside his belly; but Vlad ignored it, chalking it up to leftover transformation jitters.

* * *

They caught Renfield in his lab, working over a bright orange concoction that smelled absolutely gruesome.

"Renfield," Vlad cut in, startling his manservant, who nearly dropped the vial he was holding. "I need your help."

Renfield lifted his mask. "Of course, Master Vlad." He looked Vlad up and down, as if sizing him up. Vlad wondered what he looked like; with a pang, he realized he'd probably never know.

"I must say, you're looking quite dashing today, your Highness. The transformation went well, I take it?"

Vlad shrugged. "I don't remember that much of it, to be honest. But… could be worse, I suppose."

Renfield smiled toothily. "Well, then. How can I be of service?"

Vlad lowered his voice, looking anxiously at the door. "I need you to start work on a vegetarian blood substitute—make as much of it as you can. And fast, because I'm starving."

Renfield stroked his chin, looking thoughtful. "Ah, well. Now that you mention it, I'm pretty sure I have a recipe for soya blood floating around somewhere." He grinned, his unsightly teeth glinting in the dim light. "One batch of blood, coming right up. Shouldn't be more than an hour, if all goes well. I'll knock on your door when the first batch is ready."

Vlad sagged in relief. It was the best news he'd heard all day. "Thank you, Renfield. I mean it—you've saved my hide."

"Consider it a birthday gift."

Robin grinned, shoving Vlad playfully in the shoulder. "Bloody brilliant, isn't it? Pun intended."

Vlad felt top of the world. Not even Robin's horrible sense of humor could ruin it. He grabbed him, roughing up his hair, and laughed as his captive howled in distress.

"What have you done? I need a mirror." Robin reached under Vlad's arm, grabbing a jar of eyeballs off a nearby shelf, and peered at the glass, turning it from side to side to find the best angle. Vlad pulled the jar away, shaking his head and grinning like a fool.

He couldn't remember the last time he felt so carefree. He took in Robin's wrinkled nose and scowling mouth; eyed those ridiculous freckles.

He was so pleased, he could even….

 _Could… what?_

His gut had that funny lurching feeling again. He let go of Robin's shoulders. It was probably just the hunger.

He nodded at Renfield. "This might actually be a good birthday, after all, thanks to you," he said. He shook his head to clear the cobwebs. "Come on, Robin, let's go celebrate."

* * *

As they left, the two of them jostling each other as they raced down the hall, neither of them noticed a dark figure enter the lab from the opposite end.

Renfield slipped his mask back on, bending over to rummage around in his ingredients. "Soya base… dash of iron… just a hint of tapioca…."

Distracted, he placed the bottles on the table above his head. Bent as he was at the waist, with his head under the worktable, he didn't notice the well-manicured hand that grabbed the jar of soya base from the table, upending a small bottle of dark fluid into it in one smooth motion.

Renfield froze as he heard a small _clink_ above him, and straightened, bumping his head on the underside of the table. He blinked, checking his work area for spills, surprised to find none.

He squinted at the soya base. He could have sworn he'd put the jar on his left, not the right…. But, glancing around, and seeing that the room was empty except for him, he shrugged.

Ah, well. He put a pot of water on heat, grabbing a glass of Transylvanian beetle shells off the shelf and staring at it thoughtfully.

Renfield reached in, popping a handful into his mouth. "To taste," he muttered happily, dumping the rest into the pot.


	4. Perks

Robin fell back onto the pillows, totally spent. "You can't use your powers. It's cheating." He wiped the sweat from his forehead. "And I am _positive_ there were more stairs today than last time. I think the castle's messing with me again."

Vlad crossed his arms, amused. "I don't know what you're talking about. And I think you'd ought to get yourself in better shape before accusing me of cheating."

"But you _did_ cheat." Robin glanced around Vlad's room. "Do you think you could keep the bed up here, even after you set up the coffin? That way, we can still have sleepovers."

Vlad cocked his head. "Maybe. We might be able to keep the mattress in the closet. I don't think the Count would be very pleased if we kept it in the main room. It's too 'breather-chic' for his tastes."

Robin shrugged. "Want help moving it?"

Vlad nodded, although he grinned as Robin stood up. "Actually; hold on, I've got it." He made a 'shoo' motion, winking at Robin's puzzled look.

"Are you about to show me some of your super strength?" Robin asked, with barely repressed enthusiasm. Vlad nodded.

"Wicked!" Robin shoved at Vlad's side.

Vlad smirked. "Step back." He waited until Robin was a safe distance back, and knelt, taking one corner of the mattress in his hand. With a quick flick of his wrist, the mattress was standing upright, balanced easily in his palm.

Robin whistled.

Vlad grinned at him, then gave the mattress a sharp twist with a flick of his wrist. The bed spun in place, becoming a blur, sheets and pillows flying off in every direction. Vlad raced around, grabbing items as they fell. By the time the dust had settled, the sheets were all folded neatly, the pillows stacked in the corner, and the mattress lying exactly where it had been before.

Robin crossed his arms. "Now you're just showing off."

Vlad bowed, tipping an imaginary hat. "What's the damage in there?" he asked, jerking a thumb in the direction of the closet. Robin shrugged, and Vlad went to investigate, eyeing the floor. So… not exactly clean, then, but respectable.

He zipped back to the mattress, lifting it effortlessly, and tucked it away in the closet. As an afterthought, he flitted about the room, picking up the pillows and folded sheets and shoving them in as well.

He returned, wiping his hands on his pants, and caught Robin gawking. "I wish I could clean my room that fast," Robin said, sounding wistful. "Would save me loads of time."

Vlad snorted. "Even if you could, you wouldn't," he said, crossing his arms. "When's the last time you cleaned anything?"

"Point taken."

* * *

"You know, you still have presents to open," Robin said, leaning against the far wall.

"Oh, right..." After the stress from earlier, all thoughts of birthdays had completely slipped Vlad's mind. "We should probably at least wait for the Count to wake up."

Robin checked his wrist. "It's half past five, now."

Vlad nodded. "Okay, so we've got another hour to kill, at least."

Robin pulled out Vlad's desk chair and sat on it backward, balancing his elbows on the chair back. He rested his chin on his crossed forearms. "You know, I'm impressed with you, Vlad."

Vlad blushed; though only mentally, of course. "What for?"

Robin shrugged. "For, you know, resisting m—I mean, the blood Ingrid tried to give you earlier. That can't have been easy."

Vlad fetched a spare chair from the other end of the room, setting it across from Robin and mirroring his posture. "Don't mention it." He winced. "Really. Don't."

Robin rubbed his neck. "So, what happened in there? In the room with the blood mirror, I mean. You were screaming for ages."

Vlad's brow furrowed. "I really don't remember much. It's all a bit of a blur."

Robin seemed disappointed by his answer, but nodded. "You know, I was wondering…" He shook his head. "Nevermind."

"What?"

Robin's heart rate picked up a notch, and Vlad glanced at him, curious. Robin suddenly seemed intensely preoccupied with a spot just over Vlad's left shoulder.

"Earlier today, you…. Well. That is… do you still want to drink my blood? Right now?"

Vlad swallowed. "I'm trying really, really hard not to think about it." He paused, figuring he should be honest with him. His stomach leapt. "But... yes."

Robin's face was bright red. "Ah."

"It's not as bad when I hold my breath, though," Vlad added, a bit too quickly. He'd been doing his best to hold his breath for the last hour or so, only taking in enough air to speak.

Robin raised his eyebrows. "You still breathe?"

"Well, I have to, to talk. But other than that? No; it's just, you know old habits die hard." Vlad's face lit up as he remembered. "Actually, you're not going to believe this, but..." he leaned in conspiratorially. "I have a heartbeat."

"Seriously? But I thought…?"

"So did I, but... I guess my heart just beats really slowly. As in, once every few minutes." Vlad bit his lip, embarrassed. "I've always been crap at vampire biology."

A look of curiosity came over Robin's face. "Hey, not to sound off, but could I… feel it? Your heartbeat, I mean?" There were twin spots of red in his cheeks. "Actually… let's pretend I didn't say that."

Vlad thought about it. Robin had been showing a great deal of constraint today, all things considered. A little curiosity was perfectly understandable.

"No, it's fine," Vlad said at last, shrugging. "You can, if you want. Um..."

He scooted his chair closer to Robin's, doing his best not to do it at top-speed; though, judging by his friend's expression, he hadn't succeeded. He should probably work on that. "Sorry."

"It's okay." Robin looked at him expectantly.

Vlad cleared his throat. "Give me your hand, then."

* * *

Robin held out his hand obediently, and Vlad brought it to his throat. "It might take several minutes before you feel anything," he warned, and Robin nodded.

Vlad schooled his face into what he hoped was an expression of encouragement, ignoring the way his stomach was currently twisting itself in knots. "Okay, now just hold that there, and wait. You'll feel it."

"Your skin's really cold, mate." Ten seconds passed; then, Robin's finger twitched. He sat up straighter. "There! I felt it!"

Vlad smiled. "See? I told you."

He expected Robin to remove his hand, but he didn't. As Vlad watched, his smile faltered. "Wait, I think I felt another one."

Vlad's eyebrows lifted into his hairline. "What?" That couldn't be right. Except, not even five seconds later, Vlad felt it, too.

"There! That was definitely a heart beat." Robin met his eyes. "What's with that?"

Vlad hadn't the slightest idea. "Maybe it was all the running around I did earlier?"

"Maybe," Robin said. His hand was still pressed against Vlad's throat, and Vlad couldn't help but notice Robin's own heart was racing like crazy.

He found it difficult, in fact, to think about anything _other_ than the speed at which blood was currently flowing through Robin's body. He hoped Robin was feeling all right.

 _It's probably because you're_ staring _at him, you big git_.

He chanced a look at Robin's face, only to find wide brown eyes staring back at him intently. Neither seemed to want to be the first to look away.

"Master Vlad?"

Robin and Vlad leapt apart guiltily at the sound. Vlad glared at the doorway. "Renfield! What have I told you about knocking?"

Renfield bowed. "I did, sire. Twice."

Vlad was about to say something snarky—there's no way he would've missed something that loud, given his newfound hearing—but Renfield stopped him short. "Very sorry to interrupt, but I thought you'd want to know; I've finished the first batch of soya blood."

Vlad and Robin exchanged excited looks, the tension from earlier forgotten. "Let's see it, then!" Vlad demanded.

Renfield held up a large wine-bottle of blackish-looking fluid. "Let me know what you think. The taste balance is still a work in progress." He waggled his brows. "It's a special recipe of my own design."

Vlad took the bottle eagerly, uncorking it and bringing it to his nose. He took a whiff, and groaned.

"Go on—give it a taste."

Vlad raised the bottle in a mock-toast, then took a sip. His eyes widened; he had to grip the doorframe to stop his knees from buckling. "Oh, wow," he managed, after swallowing.

It was richer than a home-cooked meal, and fresher than the purest spring water. He took an even larger gulp, savoring the feel of it on his tongue. "God, that's fantastic."

Robin coughed. His face had become a peculiar shade of pink. "That good, huh?"

Vlad nodded, enthusiastic. "Renfield, you're a genius."

His manservant grinned wolfishly at them. "You think?"

"Yes, I do," he insisted. "Do me a favor, will you, and make as much of this as you can." He took another sip and sighed. "Do you know what this means? I'll never need a single drop of blood, human or animal. This is incredible!"

Renfield turned to leave, but Vlad stopped him. "Wait," he said, curiosity getting the better of him. "If you don't mind me asking… what's in it, exactly?"

"It's quite simple," Renfield replied, puffing his chest. "I started with a liquid soya base and some iron, along with several other metallic supplements… what else?" He stared up at the ceiling. "Oh, yes, I threw in some tapioca paste, and a few handfuls of Transylvanian beetle wings. I think it adds a certain something extra, don't you?" Vlad wrinkled his nose; some of the ingredients didn't sound too bad, though he wasn't sure how he felt about that last one.

"Excellent," he said at last. What did it matter, in any case? Beetle wings were the least of his problems. If it worked, then he'd happily eat a thousand.

Robin came up and patted him on the back. "That's wonderful, mate. Let's go celebrate by opening some presents, yeah? It's nearly six."

Vlad nodded. "Good idea. Come on, Renfield. I promise, I won't forget this."

"Not at all, Master Vlad," Renfield said, as they made their way down the long stone staircase. "Happy Birthday."

* * *

As the sound of their footsteps started to recede, a small brown bat flew down from its roosting spot on the ceiling, and materialized on the top of the stairs.

Ingrid dusted off her robes. "Happy Birthday, indeed," she whispered after them. She watched Vlad wrap his arm around Robin as they turned the corner. _How absurd,_ she shuddered. Vlad was obviously completely infatuated with the breather.

But it made no difference now. The seed was planted; all she had to do was sit back and wait.


	5. The Gift

"Dad," Vlad said, rapping smartly on his father's coffin. "Wake up! It's my birthday."

"Mmm, yes," his father's voice droned through the coffin's wood. The lid creaked open, and the Count rose steadily from his place of rest.

Vlad flashed his teeth. "Race you." He sped away, sniggering.

But it was over before it started. By the time Vlad arrived in the dining hall, the Count was already perched on his throne, legs crossed. His expression was smug. "Face it," he crooned with no small amount of satisfaction, examining his nails. "You just can't beat 600 years of practice."

Vlad laughed.

"You seem cheery." The Count stood, gliding over to a large, suspiciously coffin-shaped present by the head of the table. "Open this one first." Vlad rolled his eyes.

"I wonder what it could be." Vlad sped over to it anyway, shredding the giftwrap to pieces. His arms were a blur as bits of shiny black paper went flying.

"Whoa." The coffin was metal, much to Vlad's surprise, and rounded; it was shaped somewhat like a bullet, although it was flat on one side. The whole thing looked like a person-sized bomb shelter. "This is actually pretty cool, Dad. Thanks!"

"You're having a little too much fun, doing that," Robin said, in reference to the bits of giftwrap still raining from the ceiling. He ducked, batting at his hair as a larger piece fell on his head.

"What's next?" Vlad asked, by way of response.

Ingrid, who was whispering something in Will's ear from the opposite end of the table, stopped long enough to sneer at him.

Vlad started in on the rest of his presents. There was a ceremonial metal goblet and dagger from Attila and Krone, a card from his mother, an ankh ring from Uncle Harvey, and a cat toy and food bowl, courtesy of his sister. That was three presents from Ingrid, altogether. He squinted suspiciously in her direction. That meant she wanted something. But what?

He shook his head. Everything he had. Obviously.

When he got to the end of the pile, he tried not to be too disappointed as he realized there hadn't been any gifts from Robin.

At some point, the Count stood to declare a toast in his honor, but Vlad hardly noticed.

 _He can't have forgotten, can he_? _He's never_ not _gotten me a present before._

Granted, Robin's presents were usually terrible. Still...

Vlad was quiet for the rest of the meal; he poked at his food, pushing the suspicious-looking grey lumps on his plate around in circles with his fork. He smiled when appropriate, and answered any and all questions directed at him, but otherwise stayed silent.

It was only when Renfield began taking their plates away that Robin finally made eye contact with Vlad. The other boy waited until the Count was preoccupied, then gave Vlad a meaningful look and mouthed the word _later._

Vlad nodded, and, though he was burning with curiosity, decided not to push the issue. So, Robin hadn't forgotten about him. But what could he have gotten him that he didn't want the others to see?

He waited as long as he could bear it, keeping silent until all the dishes were gone. "Say—Robin," he said innocently. "Do you want to go play some chess? Upstairs?" He paused meaningfully, glancing at his father, who was busy scolding Renfield about something or other. "Now?"

Robin winked. "Sure thing."

The two of them stood, turning for the stairs, but before they could make it to the door the Count blocked their path, glowering.

"Vladimir. Surely you're forgetting about something." He waited. "Our father and son excursion?" At Vlad's continued look of ignorance, the Count put an arm around his son's shoulder, leading him to the moonlit window.

His eyes shone with pride as he stared out beyond the castle grounds. "It'll be wonderful, Vlad—just you and me, prowling in the dark of night. Those sheep won't know what bit them." He chuckled darkly. "At last: after all these years, we'll finally be able to hunt together."

"Oh yeah, the hunt." Vlad sighed. He _had_ forgotten.

This was not going to be an easy conversation. He met the Count's eyes, putting on a brave face. "Dad, I've got something to tell you. You're, um. Not going to like it."

* * *

Outside the castle, a family of crows sat roosting on the gate, their heads tucked snugly under their wings.

A terrible roar burst from the windows, shattering the glass and spooking the birds from their roost. Cawing out in anger, they swarmed the castle—where they were soon joined by a large bat, who circled the parapets of the highest castle tower for nearly an hour before landing on the crows' favorite perch and letting out several high-pitched squeals of frustration.

Sensing that the newcomer was even more pissed off than they were, the crows retreated, giving the bat a wide berth.

* * *

The bedroom door safely locked, Vlad gently set Robin down in front of him. "I'm sorry about that. Did I hurt you?"

Robin was grinning ear to ear; seemingly unconcerned with the bruises that would surely be coloring the sides of his ribs come morning. "That was awesome."

Vlad sighed. "My dad's going to take some time to cool down." He felt guilty. He should have told the Count earlier. "As it is, he'll probably never want to talk to me again, now that I'm ' _officially a disgrace to vampire-kind_ '." He crossed to the bottle of soya blood, taking it and swishing its contents around absent-mindedly. "At least I still have this." He uncorked it, taking a large sip. " _Mmm_."

Robin sat in one of the chairs; he looked uneasy. Vlad sat opposite him with the bottle in tow, glancing up when a loud mewling came from the direction of the window. The kitten emerged from what appeared to be its favorite spot, snuggled up behind the curtains.

Vlad watched as the creature spotted a moth and began stalking it across the room. He turned back to Robin, surprised to find him staring at his feet, his face pale. "I won't let my dad hurt you, if that's what you're worried about."

Robin shook his head. "No; that's not it." He shot Vlad a forced smile and fished a small gift from his coat. It was wrapped in dark green paper.

Vlad beamed, taking the bundle eagerly. It had a bow around it, tied with actual silk ribbon. "Chloe's doing, yeah?" he asked, with a knowing look.

The corner of Robin's mouth twitched. "Maybe."

Vlad shook the parcel by his ear, listening. He thought he heard a faint metallic jingle coming from somewhere inside, but hadn't a clue what it could be. Even his vampire hearing was no help. "Does shaking ever work?" he wondered aloud.

"Probably not."

Vlad unwrapped whatever-it-was slowly, careful not to rip the paper.

At first, he wasn't sure what it was supposed to be. There were two interlinked metal circles, a bit thicker than bracelets, with designs curling around the edges. Each had metal hinges and latches, along with what looked to be a keyhole on one side.

Vlad let out a nervous laugh. "Um… Robin, are these handcuffs?"

"Yes." Robin fidgeted. "But, I can explain." Vlad could hear the other boy's heart beating a mile a minute.

Those bats were dancing in Vlad's belly again. "Please do," he tried. He was having some trouble deciding what his face should be doing.

Robin scooted toward him, taking the cuffs from the box and pulling them out tight; as he did, the cuffs made a high-pitched ringing sound, like the toll of a bell. "These cuffs are special. They're argentallium, like the amulet. In other words, strong enough to restrain a vampire." Robin swallowed. Vlad could practically hear his sweat. "It's only for emergencies, of course."

"What kind of emergency?" Vlad asked, quietly. "What do you think I'd do?"

"It's not that," Robin protested. "I know you're in control, but…" he swallowed. "You know as well as I do that that reflection is still inside you. These," he added, nodding at the cuffs, "are insurance—just in case the cravings ever get really bad."

He moved the collar of his shirt aside, revealing a second thin chain around his neck that Vlad hadn't noticed before, dangling from which was a tiny key. "This goes to them. Chloe has one, too. They're the only things that can open the cuffs. They're, um, part of the gift."

Vlad tried not to look as hurt as he felt. "You really think I need these?"

"They're meant to protect you, not me." Robin chewed at his lip, and sighed. "Wow. I suck at this. Look, I'm sure we'll never have to use them." He gazed at Vlad seriously. "I promise, I'm _not_ afraid of you."

"But you're right, Robin—that thing, whatever it is, is still inside me." Vlad stared at his hands. "Deep down, part of me will always be evil. You're not safe around me anymore. Nobody is."

"That's a load of rubbish," Robin scoffed. "You're the kindest person I've ever met."

"I'm not a person."

Robin put a warm hand on Vlad's shoulder, forcing him to look. "You've been hanging around your dad too much. Vampire or not, you are as much of a person as I am. And a better one, at that."

A smile tugged at the corner of Vlad's lips. "…Thanks." He peered at his friend. "How come you're being so nice to me, anyway? Trying to butter me up or something?"

Robin shrugged. "Come off it, I'm always nice to you."

Vlad squinted at him, assessing. "...Right."

"All right; to be honest, I think the handcuffs are a bit overkill. They were Chloe's idea, not mine." Robin bit his lip. "Actually, I had another present for you, but it's a moot point now."

Vlad leaned forward, eager. "Really?" He looked Robin over. "Why?"

Robin glared in the direction of the door. "Ingrid. I don't even know how she found it in the first place."

"Found what?"

Robin frowned, looking uneasy. "Promise you won't get mad again?" Vlad stared at him. "You know what, I'm thinking it can wait until tomorrow. You've had a long day."

" _Robin_. What did you do?"

* * *

Robin sighed, twirling the draw of his zipper around his finger. "You know that bottle of blood Ingrid tried to get you to drink earlier?" Vlad nodded. He had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Yes…"

"It's actually a funny story. You see, last week, I was sitting around, trying to think what I should get you..." Robin cut himself off at the withering look Vlad shot him. "The blood was my idea, not Ingrid's." He cringed at the furious disbelief in the vampire's eyes.

" _What_?" Vlad demanded, standing and glaring down at his friend. "You were going to give me _human_ blood?" Robin flinched. "I can't believe you. What made you think I'd want something like that?"

"It wasn't meant for you to drink, okay?" Robin looked at him warily. "I read about it in one of your Dad's books a few months ago, while we were searching for a cure. I got the idea from an ancient ritual of fealty I found, from medieval times. You know, lords and serfs and all that rot."

"Fealty?" Vlad shouted. "Serfs?"

"It's supposed to be this... symbol of trust," Robin waved his hands, looking flustered. "The book said if a breather presents a vampire with a bottle of his own blood, and the vampire accepts, it's supposed to symbolize a promise, you know; that they will always protect each other." Robin looked at him sheepishly. "That's how confident I am that you would never hurt me."

Vlad's eyes grew wide as he put two and two together.

"Wait—are you telling me that was _your_ blood in the bottle? Are you crazy?"

Robin stood, holding up his hands. "Like I said, it was never meant for you to drink. Ingrid got her conniving mitts on it while you were trapped in the mirror room, and; Vlad, I swear I never intended for anyone else to see it…."

Vlad struggled to remain calm. "Robin; my dad's books are full of dark magic. They're not something to mess around with. What if I had drunk from that bottle when Ingrid tried to give it to me? What would have happened to you then?"

"It's not a _spell_ ," Robin explained, as Vlad glared at him. "It's a symbolic gesture, that's all."

"Right," Vlad said, testily. "And what would my drinking it have symbolized? Other than how delicious you are?"

Robin swallowed, his face a dull pink. "I guess… it would mean that you had refused the offer."

Vlad resisted the urge to throw his chair, and sat in it instead. He put his head in his hands.

"I suppose it doesn't matter now," Vlad said, finally. "Ingrid probably downed it the second she left."

Robin nodded, eyeing him with trepidation. "It was a dumb idea, wasn't it?" He sighed. "I'm a rotten friend. I'm sorry, Vlad. It's just, the other gift was Chloe's idea, and I knew it might upset you, so I wanted to get you something that really meant something; you know?" He scratched his head. "I'm not... very good with gifts."

"Let's see." Vlad counted on his fingers. "So far, you've given me a vampire make-up kit; a shrunken head; a coffin-shaped alarm clock… a bottle of human blood… oh, and let's not forget the bloody handcuffs." Vlad eyed his friend, giving him a look and crossing his arms.

For some reason, Robin seemed to cheer up at that. "So does that mean I'm forgiven?"

Vlad stared at his friend incredulously, before sighing in defeat. He wagged a finger at him. "If you ever even _think_ about pulling something like that again..." He narrowed his eyes. "I'll use those cuffs on you."

The kitten jumped into Robin's lap. Robin looked down at the creature with curiosity. "I didn't know you had a cat, Vlad."

Vlad felt a migraine coming on. "It was Ingrid's idea of a practical joke. I almost ripped its throat out this morning."

Robin winced. "Well, I suppose the good news is: you didn't."

"Only because Renfield barged in at just the right moment."

Robin stroked the kitten's ears. "If you ask me, I'd say you're looking at this thing all wrong. You've got that blood substitute now, right? At least the thirst won't be as bad going forward."

Robin… actually had a point. Vlad sighed. "Yeah, well. I guess I'm lucky Renfield is so good with potions."

"Are we still on for our sleepover?" Robin asked. The kitten meowed at him— he scratched its chin obligingly. "Oh I'm sorry, Simon, did I miss a spot?"

"Is that what we're calling it?" Vlad crossed to the desk, rescuing a well-worn chessboard from under a pile of clothing. "I suppose you can stay." He offered Robin a small smile. "So long as you don't mind losing."

Robin laughed. "Keep dreaming, blood-sucker."

* * *

As they played, they plotted.

They needed to steer clear of the Count, at least until sunrise. The plan was to stay up all night, then sneak downstairs in the morning to grab Vlad's coffin once the Count had gone to sleep.

Staying up was easy for Vlad, since he wasn't the least bit tired. After all, his sleep schedule was a bit in flux, at the moment. Vlad had offered to sit watch so that Robin could get a bit of shut-eye. But Robin had insisted on staying up with him.

As the taller boy put Vlad's king in check for the third time that evening, Vlad once again thanked his lucky stars that he had the substitute blood to curb his cravings. There was no way he would have been comfortable with such prolonged proximity otherwise. As grateful as Vlad was not to be left alone with his thoughts tonight, Robin didn't seem to appreciate the risk he was putting himself under by staying.

Vlad thought about the handcuffs, frowning. Then again, maybe Robin did.


	6. A Letter From Vlad

Vlad yawned for the fifth time that morning. Apparently, vampires did that, too, though for what purpose, Vlad could hardly imagine.

"Tired, yet?" Robin teased, although the bags under his eyes made his own exhaustion obvious.

They'd given up on chess hours ago, killing time by playing with Simon and trading stupid jokes. Vlad had been able to suffer through roughly 30 seconds of Robin's ghastly vampire puns, before insisting they play Battergories instead.

About midway through the night, they had snuck downstairs to Renfield's lab, despite Vlad's misgivings, to grab something for Simon to eat—the name was growing on him—and when they'd finished, somehow making it back to the tower without further incident, they'd watched a bunch of dumb YouTube videos on Robin's mobile, eating up a large chunk of his parent's data in the process.

Now, with the morning sun just minutes from rising, they were leaning against the door, bored out of their skulls.

"Is it time yet?" Vlad asked. "I don't think I can take much more of waiting." They'd have to be quick, if they were going to grab the coffin without risking his father's wrath.

"Yeah. Let's just get it over with," Robin agreed.

Vlad stretched, yawning again. "All right. Remember to keep your eyes closed," he instructed, and Robin complied, wrapping his arms around Vlad's neck and hanging on tight. As if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Vlad held his breath as he clutched at Robin's back, staring steadfastly at the opposite wall and not anywhere near Robin's enticing jugular.

Someone up there must really hate him.

"Ready?" Robin asked, bringing him back from the brink of dangerous mental territory.

Vlad nodded, and, making sure not to let Robin's thin frame knock into any walls, sped down the stairs.

* * *

Vlad slowed as they approached the dining room table, and bent his knees slightly to signal that Robin could let go—though he supposed he needn't have bothered. He may have grown a fair amount in the last three years, but Robin still had quite a few inches on him.

Robin cracked his neck with a grimace.

"All right," Vlad whispered. "Do you see anything?" He turned, glancing behind them into the dark.

"No. Do you?"

"I think we're fine. You stay put, I'll check on the coffin," Vlad said. "I don't trust Ingrid not to have booby-trapped it. Have you got your garlic spray?" he checked the hall a second time, just to be sure.

Robin nodded, waving the bottle at him.

Vlad tiptoed over to the coffin, turning to wave him over. "Okay, now get in."

"What? Why?"

"Do you want to get out of here or what?" Vlad opened the cover and stared at Robin pointedly. Robin hesitated, and then stepped inside, crossing his arms over his chest with an impressive scowl.

"I'll be as gentle as I can, okay?" Vlad promised, winking at him through the opening in the lid. "Now hang on tight."

Robin rolled his eyes. "Just hurry up before your dad catches us."

Vlad closed it, glancing around one last time before lifting the now-occupied coffin in two hands, careful to arrange things so he'd be able to see where he was going.

At the base of the tower steps, Vlad knocked at the lid. "Okay, you can get out now," he whispered, stifling a grin. Robin emerged, rubbing his forehead. "Did I hurt you?"

"Just dizzy," Robin complained. "Was that really necessary?"

Vlad sniggered. "No; but it _was_ hilarious."

Robin shoved him. "I'm glad my pain is amusing to you, but I'm exhausted. Can we finish this already?"

Vlad wiped the smile off his face. "Yes. Sorry."

The two of them climbed the stairs, with Robin taking the lead. Vlad looked over his shoulder warily. Call him paranoid, but Vlad wouldn't put it past his dad to try something—like taking Robin hostage until he agreed to renounce all thoughts of blood abstinence.

Vlad set the coffin in the center of the bedroom floor. He straightened—and yelped in alarm. A few rays of light had peeked through the curtains, striking him squarely in the chest.

He sped to the far corner of his room as smoke rose from him in gentle spirals.

Robin rushed to the window and shut the curtains. "Ouch. That looked like it hurt." He grimaced, waving a hand in front of his nose. "You smell like bat barbeque."

"I think I'm okay," Vlad said, holding his shirt away from the tender area. It really _had_ hurt, though. "Just thirsty. I guess pain makes the hunger worse."

"Where's your soya blood?"

Vlad gestured over his shoulder, distracted. "I put it on the desk, over by the chess set."

"I'll get it," Robin said, coaxing Vlad to sit on his coffin. "You rest."

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm fine."

Robin scanned the desk with a puzzled expression. "Wait, where did you say it was?"

Vlad turned, hissing as his shirt chafed against the raw skin on his chest. "By the… huh. Weird, I thought I put it—"

"Looking for this?" a voice drawled from the doorway.

* * *

Ingrid stood with one hand resting on her hips, the other holding a bottle. About a third of the liquid was left. Had he really had that much?

Vlad sighed at his sister. "Give it here, Ingrid." The vampiress's face was the very picture of innocence—which meant she was definitely up to something.

"I was under the impression you weren't into the whole 'blood-drinking' thing," she said, smirking as she swirled the bottle's contents. "Did little Vladdy finally have a change of heart?"

Vlad scowled. "It's not real blood. It's vegetarian. Renfield came up with the recipe."

Ingrid stared at her nails, looking bored. "If you say so. So, you won't mind if I take it, then?"

Vlad stuck out his chin. He refused to let her antics faze him. "Do what you want, Ingrid. There's plenty more where that came from. Although I don't know why you'd even want it. Aren't you a dyed-in-the-wool carnivore, or something?"

"Something like that," Ingrid smiled, eyes flashing. "Well, don't let me interrupt your little slumber party, or," she eyed Robin with amusement, "whatever it was you were doing. I'm off to bed."

Vlad glared at her as she left. "What a witch," he muttered. "I don't know what she's playing at."

Robin approached him from the side, cradling Simon in the crook of his arm. "I'll never understand that woman. I can't believe I used to think she was hot."

Vlad raised an eyebrow. "Used to?"

Robin shrugged, a little too casually. "Eh. She's not my type." He looked away. "Look, let's just go ask Renfield for more of that soya stuff."

Vlad eyed the purple bags under Robin's eyes. "You've done plenty." He gestured to his closet. "You could sleep on my old bed, if you like."

Robin bounced Simon up and down gently as he considered it. "My parents will think I'm at school by now, so… I guess I can stay until two. But I've got to be back home after that. They'll be expecting me."

Vlad nodded. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't be too keen on encouraging Robin to skive off school—but it was clear that Robin was in no shape for educating.

"Let's get the mattress set up, then. I'll go talk to Renfield once you're settled in."

"Thanks, mate."

* * *

Vlad knocked at the lab door, shuffling from foot to foot. "Come in, come in," Renfield called through the door.

Vlad entered to the sight of a steaming, brownish liquid bubbling its way through several metres of spiraled glass tubing above his head. "Renfield, is the next batch ready yet?" he asked, spotting a row of dark bottles lined up against the wall. He stalked toward one, snatching it off its shelf and popping it open eagerly.

"Yes, Master Vlad," Renfield said, humming to himself as he stirred a large pot. "Feel free to take as many as you need."

"It smells different," Vlad complained, taking a swig—and promptly spat it back out onto the floor. It tasted absolutely foul. "Ugh! Renfield, why did you change the recipe?"

Renfield looked puzzled. "I didn't," he said, glancing at the tubes of bubbling liquid with the concern. "It's the same exact ratio that I used before."

Vlad stared at the bottle in his hands, realization dawning on him. "Ingrid," he snarled. "She must have had something to do with this. Probably sabotaged it when you weren't looking."

Renfield puffed up his chest. "I'm the only one who's been in here all night. No one else could have entered without my knowledge."

Vlad shook his head. "This can't be the same stuff you gave me before. It's revolting." He growled. "Ingrid's going to pay for whatever it is that she's done."

Speak of the devil. The door opened, and Ingrid strolled in. "If it isn't my favorite brother."

"Ingrid, what have you done to Renfield's potion," Vlad grit out, crossing the room with clenched fists.

"Nothing," she said sweetly. She hesitated, putting a finger against her lower lip. "At least, not this time."

Vlad hissed at her. "Explain."

"I might have put a little something special in the first batch," Ingrid suggested, pulling a small bottle out of her pocket. Vlad stiffened as he recognized it.

"You didn't," he rasped. He felt sick.

"Oh, but I did," she disagreed, smirking. "I did you a favor, brother, so you can stop looking at me like I strangled your kitten. Your abstinence plan was bound to fail eventually." She shrugged. Vlad gaped at her wordlessly. "You can't change your nature. You're a bloodsucker. It's time you started acting like one."

After another moment's stunned silence, Vlad came to his senses; baring his fangs at her, he lunged across the room. Ingrid dodged easily.

"You should be thanking me, really. Don't tell me you didn't _love_ drinking your little breather-friend's blood." Her voice lowered. "You said it yourself—'there's so much more where that came from'. All you have to do is _take it_."

"Eat dust," Vlad yelled, throwing a fireball at her face. Ingrid caught it easily, reducing it to ash in her fist. "This is pure evil, even for you," he spat at her.

"How sweet of you to say." Ingrid grinned. "I haven't even told you the best part!"

Vlad stared.

"Haven't you been paying any attention to your studies? Don't answer that—of course you haven't." She uncorked the bottle, sniffing it with interest.

The smell of it, when it arrived, was like a slap in the face. Vlad's knees trembled, and his vision swam. "Blood that is freely given is the most addictive substance that exists for a vampire. You'll never be able to stomach animal's blood again after tasting that, let alone that vegetarian crap Renfield made for you."

"You're lying," Vlad cried out, feeling unsteady. "It can't be true." He was having trouble focusing on Ingrid's face—the hunger clawed at his gut, even more unbearable than before. Desperate, he zipped to Renfield's shelf of potions ingredients, rifling through the bottles madly; spotting a vial of goat's blood, he seized it and downed it in one gulp, only to spit it out immediately onto the floor, grimacing at the stale metallic burn.

His stomach growled at him. He spotted a jar of rat's blood, and tried again. But it was more of the same. Refusing to give up, he forced himself to swallow the stuff. It stung like acid going down. He clutched his stomach.

"It's useless to fight it. The addiction is magical, not physical." Ingrid took a step forward. Her voice grew soft, almost kind. "Hasn't that boyfriend of yours always wanted to be a vampire, anyway? Now he can get his wish." Vlad shook his head in disbelief, and Ingrid looked into his eyes, pleading. "Give in, Vlad. I can show you how to control the hunger, and with my help you can become the powerful heir Dad's always wanted." Something in her face changed, and a flash of something melancholy flitted across her pale features. Then, it was gone. "I can teach you to be a proper vampire."

Vlad pushed past his sister coldly, unable to look at her. "I'm not sure I'll ever be able to forgive you for this, Ingrid."

Ingrid turned when Vlad had left, staring down the room's other occupant. Renfield cowered under his mistress's sharp glare. "What are you looking at?" she demanded, showing Renfield a gruesomely sharp set of fangs.

The manservant quickly scarpered off.

When Ingrid was alone, she said, "He's mad at me now, but I've done the right thing."

Will stepped out of the shadows, taking Ingrid into his arms. "Of course, my love. And Vlad will see that, too, eventually." He brushed the hair out of her eyes, smiling down at her.

She sighed. "Vampires and breathers don't mix. If he really cares about Robin, he'll bite him and get it over with, before he winds up hurting him for real."

Will twirled some of her hair around his finger, still grinning like a lovesick fool. "I'm so lucky that you did the same for me, all those years ago."

Ingrid allowed herself to be caught in her boyfriend's embrace, grateful that no matter what her so-called family thought about her, Will would always be by her side.

* * *

Vlad paced outside his bedroom door, trying not to panic.

 _I can't hurt Robin,_ was the only conclusion his tired brain could handle at the moment.

He thought about the handcuffs, which were most likely somewhere in the mess that was his desk. Could he risk entering to grab them? What if he went for Robin's throat instead?

His hunger was only getting worse. Vlad would never intentionally hurt Robin, of course—but what if he slipped up? He couldn't risk it.

He nearly hit himself. Of course—he wouldn't be able to bite Robin so long as he was wearing the amulet. It was pure argentallium.

He opened the door, glancing furtively at the bed; Robin was snoring, his messy black hair poking out from under Vlad's bright orange duvet.

Vlad tiptoed over to the far wall and found the cuffs next to an old notebook. He grabbed the cuffs; then, after a moment's hesitation, took the notebook as well, rifling through the papers on his desk for a pen. He would leave Robin a note, explaining what had happened; and then he would lock himself up.

For good, if necessary.

He gulped, not much looking forward to the idea of starving for eternity. But what alternative did he have? He refused to be a danger to the people he loved. An odd sense of déjà vu came over him at the thought, but he pushed it away.

He briefly debated leaving a note for his father as well, but knew that if the Count figured out that Robin had the key, all of the Branaughs would be in danger.

Should he take the key from him?

He padded to the bed, hovering awkwardly. It wouldn't be easy: Robin had wrapped himself tightly in a caccoon of blankets. Vlad was sure he'd wake him if he tried anything.

It was a moot point anyway; Chloe had her own copy of the key. Vlad would just have to hide himself thoroughly enough that Robin would never find him.

As he put pen to paper, he cursed his sister for the umpteenth time. For a moment there, in her own twisted way, it had almost sounded like Ingrid genuinely believed she was helping him.

Vlad scowled. That was probably giving her too much credit. If anything, this latest prank of hers had proven she was incapable of true human emotion.

He wracked his brains, clutching the pen. What do you say to someone you're about to leave forever?

His stomach sank. He thought of the one thing he'd always wanted to say to Robin, but had never quite known how to put in words _._ He glanced at Robin, and tried to commit the sight to memory.

Vlad had always been pants at poetry. Better to be short and sweet, and to the point.

 _Dear Robin;_ _you aren't safe here anymore…._

* * *

Robin stared at Vlad's absurdly beautiful, loopy handwriting. He couldn't believe the bloody bastard.

" _Dear Robin; you aren't safe here anymore. Ingrid spiked Renfield's substitute with your blood. Apparently, blood that is freely given is highly addictive to vampires, and that means, as long as I am free, you will always be in grave danger. My body won't accept any substitutes for human blood, and I won't become the monster my family wants me to be. That's why I've locked myself in my coffin, and hidden away where I won't be found; I absolutely forbid you from trying to locate me for_ _any reason_."

'Any reason' had been underlined three times.

" _My father will be unspeakably angry with me for doing this. You need to leave before he finds out. Take your family, and move as far away as you can. If I'm to be a monster…_ "

Here, the words were blurry, marred where several blotches of water had soaked through. Robin squinted, straining with the effort to make out the rest. "… _Then it will be on my terms. Goodbye, dear friend. Take care of yourself._ "

At the end of the letter, a few of the words had been scored out with ink, followed by his name.

Robin's hands shook where they held the paper. So Vlad wanted to drink his blood, and this was how he reacted?

"Why didn't you just ask?" He whispered at the blank space where Vlad's coffin had been. "I would have said yes."

He had to think of something, and fast. Night would be falling in less than five hours. If he didn't find Vlad quick, before the Count found him missing…. Robin gulped. It wouldn't be good.

He knew Vlad couldn't have gotten far in broad daylight. He must still be somewhere in the castle—probably in one of the building's many secret passageways. He could start looking now and it might take days to find him, assuming the castle didn't intentionally sabotage his efforts.

He held his face in his hands, groaning. He smacked his forehead repeatedly, until an idea finally began to form in his exhausted brain.

Chloe would know how to fix this. She always knew what to do in these situations.

* * *

Robin snuck down the hallway, aware that being recognized at this stage would spell disaster for his entire plan. Fortunately, the halls were mostly empty, as classes were still in session. He just had to find the right room.

He opened a door and peeked his head in, apologizing as he interrupted yet another class for no reason.

There, this one had to be it. He peered through the glass on the door to Classroom 3B, and spotted Chloe sitting in the middle row of her World History class.

His younger sister, being the child prodigy she was, may have been only fourteen, but she was already less than a year from graduating High School. More importantly, she also happened to be Stokely's resident expert on getting vampires out of trouble, thanks to years of coming to Vlad and Robin's rescue time and again after every failed attempt to discover a cure for vampirism.

The handcuffs and amulet had been her idea, of course. If anyone knew how to find Vlad and help him out of his current predicament, she would.

Robin waved at her, hoping to catch her eye. But it was no use. He sighed, opening the door a crack, and stuck his head in, clearing his throat.

"Miss Harley; so sorry to interrupt. I'm afraid I need to borrow Chloe. Mum and dad want her to come home immediately. Family emergency."

He winced at the withering look his sister threw his way.

"My apologies, Miss Harley," Chloe said to the teacher, her face the very picture of regret. "But as you can see, my family needs me."

She stood, shouldering her bag and stalked after her brother. Miss Harley called out as she made to close the door. "The homework and readings for Thursday will be posted on Chalkboard."

Chloe turned, all smiles. "Of course, Miss Harley."

"Oh—and before I forget, I was just about to pair you all up for your term projects…."

"It's all right," Chloe interrupted. "You can pair me with whoever still needs a partner at the end."

Miss Harley nodded. "Very well—see you Thursday, then."

Chloe turned, grabbing her brother's hand and making a swift exit.

* * *

Jonno Van Helsing watched them go with narrowed eyes. This had to be about the Draculas; he was sure of it. Branaugh number one would never agree to leave class early if Branaugh number two hadn't put his foot in dangerous vampire business; again.

Miss Harley was going around the class, pairing people up. Jonno waited until she was only a desk away, then raised his hand.

"Yes, Mr. Van Helsing?"

"I want to be paired with Chloe, if that's okay?" he said, smiling. "We're both interested in the same topics, and we haven't gotten to work together before."

Miss Harley smiled. "Excellent. That will be perfect, then."

Jonno smirked; all he had to do now was convince Branaugh that he'd been paired up with her by accident. That girl was far too smart not to suspect an ulterior motive.

* * *

As the door closed behind them, Chloe tugged at Robin's ear, pulling him close. "This had better be good. This is the second time you've pulled me out of class this _year_ ," she hissed.

Robin shrunk back, holding up his hands. "I swear it's urgent. It's about Vlad."

Chloe blew a puff of air out her nose. "Honestly. Just ask him out already. He's totally into you."

Robin glared, looking up and down the hall. No sign of Van Helsing senior. "I'm _not_ gay, and neither is Vlad. Besides, that's not why I'm here." He lowered his voice. "Vlad's gone and locked himself up in his coffin with the handcuffs I gave him for his birthday, and now he's hiding somewhere in the castle. He left a note, telling me not to go looking for him under any circumstances. That's why I need to find him before his dad wakes up, or else there will be hell to pay, and you'd better believe it will be my neck on the line."

Chloe raised an eyebrow. "What a pair the two of you are." She rolled her eyes, dragging Robin by the shirt toward the exit. "Come on then, tell me everything."

* * *

Robin paced up and down the kitchen floor, combing his hands anxiously through his hair.

He'd completely forgotten that their mum and dad were attending a golf tournament today in the town over. The timing was perfect—they wouldn't be back until at least nine, which should give them plenty of time to think of something.

Chloe stared intently at the nearly two-dozen tabs cued up in her browser. "I can't believe you gave Vlad a bottle of your blood. Are you an _actual_ idiot?" She asked, shaking her head as she clicked another link with a sigh.

Robin grimaced. "How was I supposed to know that voluntarily-given blood was like crack to vampires?"

"Still. You should have consulted me first," she said, squinting at her screen. "Huh."

"What?" Robin asked eagerly, craning his neck over her shoulder to catch a look. "What is it?"

"According to this, there may be a way for Vlad to drink human blood without hurting his victim—er, donor," she amended, at Robin's warning look.

Chloe had never quite been able to forgive Vlad's family for the Hunt Ball the Count had thrown several years prior, wherein they had left the lives of Chloe's entire family to the mercy of dozens of hungry vampires. They may have gotten out of it in one piece, but Chloe had refused to visit the castle ever since.

Still, though she kept her distance—and rightly so—she'd never stopped caring for Vlad. She knew that he was genuinely different from other vampires; and for that reason, if nothing else, she also knew that she couldn't stand by idly while his family attempted to turn him into something he was not. He deserved better.

More importantly, Robin cared for him.

"Well? What else does it say?" Robin asked impatiently. Chloe scanned the document.

"It says there's a magical necklace that can protect its wearer from any harm done by a vampire. There's an old slayer's legend about it." She read on. "According to this, the necklace is the ultimate defensive shield against the undead."

Robin grinned. "Excellent! Where can we find one?"

"Don't get your hopes up. It's an old Transylvanian relic from the Middle Ages. Slayers have been searching for it for centuries. They call it... the Amulet of Ecranare."

"Ecernare?" Robin said slowly, trying out the word.

" _Ecra_ -nare." Chloe bit her lip, skimming the rest. "There's a lot of rubbish here about the history of the slayer's guild... Hold on." She paused. "Ah- okay, here we go. The amulet grants its wearer special powers..." Her eyes widened. "Apparently, it's rumored to be able to stop vampires in their tracks, even force them to do the wearers bidding."

"Whoa," Robin breathed, reading over her shoulder. "So, what you're saying is I could use it to control Vlad's every move?"

Chloe stared at him like he'd grown a second head. Robin wilted. "I mean, protect him from himself, of course."

She returned to her search. After a minute, she sighed, leaning back in her chair. "I don't know, Robin, it sounds like a dead end to me. The necklace hasn't been spotted in over fifty years. I wouldn't even know where to start looking."

Robin slumped against the wall. "We'll just have to keep trying," he said firmly.

Chloe nodded, and was about to close out of the tab when she spotted an old portrait of a King toward the bottom of the page; a King that also happened to be wearing the necklace in question. She gasped.

"Robin… there's no need to go looking for it. You've got it already!"

"What!" Robin gaped.

"It's true. Look—that's the same amulet we ordered off of the slayer's site a few weeks ago. You're wearing it right now!"

Robin looked down at the amulet that hung around his neck. He turned it over in his fist and stared at the tiny bright red jewel in the center. "This thing?"

Chloe read on. "There's a poem that goes with it. _I guard against the living dead, if ever I be worn; no load shall steal my wearer's strength, nor claw, nor tooth, nor horn; my rivals' blows are thrown in vain. Enemy, be forewarned: no bite shall burn my wearer, no darkness in him borne._ Hmm. The rhyming feels a bit forced..."

Robin grinned ear to ear. "Awesome. What does it mean?" After a moment, he gave his sister an assessing look. "I didn't know you spoke Transylvanian."

"Old Romanian," she corrected. "And I don't. It was already translated." Chloe stared at the amulet around her brother's neck. "Whatever slayer put that on auction can't have known what it was. They'd never have sold it."

He cocked his head to one side. "So what does the poem mean, anyway?"

She bit her lip. "I could be wrong about this—but it sounds like the amulet protects its wearer from supernatural infection." At Robin's blank look, she rolled her eyes. " _Meaning_ , anyone who wears that thing could be bitten without turning into a vampire."

"That's bloody perfect!" Robin shouted, slamming his fist on the table.

"Watch your language," Chloe warned. "Besides, we don't know for sure that's what it means."

Robin grinned. "It's just… don't you see? If I can just convince Vlad to… then…" he trailed off.

"Vlad would never go for it," Chloe said gently, and Robin knew she was right. The very idea of drinking blood from a human was repulsive to Vlad. And from _him_ , no less? After what Ingrid did? Forget it.

Robin sank into a chair. "I have to do something," he said. "We'll just have to keep looking."

Chloe nodded. "I'm on it."

"Are you sure? It's only one o'clock; you can probably make sixth period if you hurry." Chloe shook her head.

"It's fine." She gave her brother a small smile. "This is more important. Now go back to the castle and save your boyfriend while I think of something. Maybe you can convince him in the mean time to reconsider his idiotic plan to starve himself to death."

"You're the best, Chloe," Robin said grinning, kissing his sister on the cheek and turning for the door. He stopped. "And he's _not_ my boyfriend."

Chloe shrugged. "Whatever you say."


	7. Grandmother's Goods

Jonno pounded on the door to his father's bedroom. "You decent?" he called out impatiently.

Eric Van Helsing opened the door; he was wearing a long, black, curly-haired wig, and was garbed head-to-toe in blue lace. Jonno rolled his eyes.

"This arrived in the mail today," Eric said gleefully. "It's the perfect disguise." Jonno looked him up and down. "Well? What do you think?"

"You shaved your beard," Jonno said, impressed.

"Yes. And?"

"It's just, you don't normally bother."

Eric Van Helsing shrugged. "Do you need me for something?" He leaned closer. "Is it about the Draculas?"

"Actually—yes," Jonno said. "The Branaughs are up to something. Robin pulled Chloe out of class today, acting all secretive." He wiggled his fingers. "And Vlad hasn't shown up to any of his classes."

Eric strode over to the calendar, flipping through the pages. "Yes…. Vlad's birthday should be any day now, if it hasn't come already," he said, stroking his hairless chin. "Mina switched out the calendar again. We'll just have to keep our eye on them." He eyed his son. "Let me know if you see anything suspicious."

"I've got everything under control," Jonno said, a bit smugly. "After Chloe left, I got the two of us partnered together for our term project. She's usually the brains of the operation. I'll try to figure out what they're planning."

"I'm proud of you, Jonno. You've grown so much these past few years." Eric sniffed, looked teary-eyed. "You're going to make a fine slayer one day."

Jonno smiled sheepishly.

Eric stooped under the low doorframe into the kitchen and grabbed a pot. He filled it with water, set it to boil, and shot a guilty look at his son. "I should have told you this earlier; but—your mother found my secret weapon stash a few weeks ago," he said.

Jonno threw his hands in the air. You should have moved it to HQ," he muttered, exasperated, "like I told you to do the first seven times." Eric nodded mournfully.

"You were right. She made me sell them."

Jonno winced. "She didn't…."

"She did—but I think it's going to work out in our favor." He rubbed his hands together. "I managed to sell nearly all of it on Dis-the-Count dot com. But that's not even the best part." He winked. "Guess how much your father made in profits."

Jonno pretended to think. "30 quid."

"Try 300." Eric slapped his thigh, chuckling triumphantly at Jonno's stunned look. "Don't look so surprised." He lowered his voice. "Your father has talents you've never even dreamed of."

"Thanks for that mental picture," Jonno shuddered. Still, he was curious despite himself. "How'd you manage to sell that junk for so much?"

"Well, those cedar-wood stakes _were_ very nice."

"Right…."

Eric was suddenly fascinated with his fingernails. "And… I may have also included some of my great-grandmother's old jewelry and said it was pure argentallium."

"So you lied," Jonno said. The disgust must have shown on his face, because his father was quick to defend himself.

"Anyone who buys rubbish off that site is bound to be some naïve collector looking for interesting oddities for their antique shop. All they really want is old junk with mysterious origins and a good backstory." He gripped Jonno's shoulder. "Besides… your birthday's coming up. I seem to remember a certain son of mine asking for a fancy new long board." Jonno didn't seem convinced. "Hmm? What do you say?"

Jonno sighed. His father was probably right. Though he did feel bad for whatever bastard had fallen for it, and dearly hoped it wasn't a fellow slayer looking for some extra protection while on the job.

Besides: he really did want that long board.


	8. Bad Dreams

By some strange miracle, the castle had decided not to fuck with Robin, for once. It really must be his lucky day.

Other than the whole, 'my best friend is trying to off himself', thing, Robin thought darkly.

He was currently crouch-walking awkwardly through one of Stokely Castle's dozen or so stone passages. This was the hallway that ran parallel to the crypt. It had been the first secret passage he could remember on short notice. He cursed as he bumped his head for the third time. He seemed to remember the passage being bigger when they were younger.

Robin took in his surroundings as he came upon a short archway, swinging his torch both ways to get a better look at the passage ahead. He hoped he was still skinny enough to squeeze through the next bit, which looked intimidatingly narrow.

At least the ceilings were finally high enough to stand.

He grabbed a bit of soil off the floor and made a mark on the wall above his head. Should he go left next, or right?

"Now, where would I hide, if I were Vlad?" he asked aloud. He jumped as a scuttling noise came from somewhere behind him. That'd be the roaches. He supposed if he was eaten alive down here it would be poetic justice for all the times he'd nearly given his mum a heart attack with the little buggers.

In the end, he chose left, wishing he could project his thoughts directly into Vlad's thick head.

 _I've got the answer, Vlad,_ he thought as loudly as he could. _A little blood lust is nothing to worry about—whenever you're feeling peckish, you can just sip from my veins and then be on your way!_

It sounded crazy even in his own head. There was no way Vlad would agree to something like that.

He thought of the look on Vlad's face the day before, twisted with pleasure at the taste of Renfield's "soya" concoction. That had been _his_ blood, making Vlad react like that. Robin could only imagine how much better it would taste, straight from the source.

He ignored the fluttering in his stomach, cursing his treacherous brain. _Focus, Branaugh. You've got to find Vlad._

He hoped Chloe had come up with a better alternative by now. Either way, he had to think up something good to say to his friend, and quick. Even if he found him, the hard part was going to be convincing him that he had to come out of the closet. Er, coffin.

Robin coughed, glad that no one was around to see him making a complete idiot of himself. It was just Chloe's usual antics, getting to him. Robin didn't like Vlad, at least not in that way.

And Vlad certainly didn't see _him_ as anything other than a friend.

* * *

 _Vlad slowly pulled back the thick duvet, then crawled up the bed until he was poised on all fours over Robin's sleeping frame. Robin's head had lolled to one side, exposing a tantalizing stretch of neck to the air._

 _Vlad's stomach clenched at the sight, and he bit his lip, glancing apprehensively at Robin's face. But he needn't have worried._

 _Robin slept like a rock._

 _After a minute of watching Robin's chest slowly rise and fall, Vlad stuck his nose in Robin's hair, breathing in the heady scent of his prey._

 _Emboldened, he kissed Robin's neck, closing his eyes at the feel of Robin's pulse hammering against his lips. His fangs descended, unbidden, and he curled his fingers around the edge of Robin's collar, pulling it to the side for better access to the young man's throat._

 _Vlad hesitated. Could he really do it? He knew that he wanted to, more than anything._

 _But he didn't want Robin to wake up._

" _What do you think you're doing?" a shrill voice demanded. Vlad flinched, turning to face whoever had dared to interrupt him._

 _It was Simon. He was licking his paw, eyes large, glowing disks in the dark. Vlad couldn't help but feel ashamed as the creature leered at him._

" _This isn't like you," Simon said, matter-of-factly. "Robin wouldn't appreciate being turned while he was still unconscious, you know." The cat grinned toothily, his whiskers vibrating with amusement. "You should wake him up and do it."_

 _Vlad gasped, sitting up. "I couldn't do that! Robin is my_ friend. _I'd... I'd never hurt him."_

 _The cat flicked its tail, expression pointed. "What do you call that, then?"_

 _Vlad looked down at Robin's neck, which was now marred by a vicious, jagged cut, from which blood had begun to flow steadily, collecting in a pool of deep crimson on the sheets._

" _That wasn't me, I swear! I would never!" He pleaded with his furry companion. "Can't you save him?"_

 _Simon purred. "No, but you can. Handcuff yourself to a tree and wait for dawn."_

 _Vlad kneeled before the kitten, misery twisting his features. "But Robin needs me. I can't kill myself."_

 _The cat jumped up onto the bed, lapping at the pool of blood. "Robin won't be needing anything from you, ever again. He's a vampire now."_

" _What…?"_

 _As Vlad spoke, Robin sat up in the bed, his eyes glowing red in the dark. "Isn't it great, Vlad? I'm one of you now." He grinned, showing off a full set of deadly looking fangs._

* * *

"NO!" Vlad shouted, shaking. He looked around himself wildly, panicking until he remembered where he was: safely locked in his coffin, in the pit of the castle. He checked—yep, his cuffs were still intact.

He tried to relax. He'd been having the same nightmare on and off for hours.

 _Robin is safe,_ Vlad firmly reminded himself. _That's all that matters now._ He lay back, willing himself to stay awake, and did his best to ignore the horrible twisting in his stomach.

He was pulled from his thoughts by a rustling noise, coming from somewhere off in the distance. _No, no,_ he groaned, covering his face.

He would recognize the sound of that clumsy gait anywhere.

* * *

Robin paused mid step—he thought he'd heard shouting somewhere off to his right, but he couldn't be sure. "Vlad? Is that you?" he called out, ears perked.

Where was that blasted coffin?

He marked the wall as he turned the corner, waving his torch ahead of him, and whooped as he spotted it: there, nestled against the far wall, was Vlad's coffin.

Vlad called out to him as he approached. The vampire's voice was thick with despair. "I told you not to come find me."

Right. Vlad had super hearing, now. He'd probably heard him coming from a mile off.

Robin winced, balancing his torch against the wall. "I'm sorry, Vlad, but I'm not about to let you die down here."

Vlad's answer was muffled.

"What? Sorry, didn't catch that." Robin crept closer.

He scanned the length of the coffin, wondering how he was supposed to open something that looked like more like a submarine than a box.

He pried at the lock, expecting to struggle with the effort, surprised when the latch broke off completely in his hand. "What a piece of junk." He lifted the lid, grimacing as his friend's hissing face came into view. "Hi, Vlad. I promise I'll find a way get that fixed."

"You're here, which means you must have read my letter," Vlad seethed through clenched teeth. "Why did you go against my wishes?"

Robin sneered at him. "Your wishes automatically stopped counting the moment they included suicide." He bent over the coffin edge, swiping at Vlad's handcuffs, but Vlad pulled them just out of Robin's reach, flashing his fangs in warning.

"I can't, okay," Vlad insisted, eyes wide. "I won't…." His voice broke, and he stared pleadingly up at his friend. "I won't survive anyway if I hurt you. Why can't you understand that?"

Robin knelt by the coffin, bracing his weight on either side and leaning over his friend's trembling body. Vlad bit his lip viciously, and turned his head. Robin realized his proximity was probably contributing to Vlad's distress, but that was neither here nor there.

"I'm not leaving without you." He glared down at his friend.

Vlad's eyes were an amazing shade of grey-green. Robin swallowed. "Chloe and I found a way around your, um, addiction to my blood." He cleared his throat. "It's my necklace; it does more than just protect humans from vampires." Robin paused, surprised Vlad wasn't arguing with him. "Are you listening?"

Vlad was giving him a very weird look, and his eyes had gone an odd shade of yellow.

"Robin. You are going to leave this place and forget that you ever found me here. If anyone asks, you are to tell them that you saw me burn up in the sunlight this morning in my bedroom."

The amulet must have been rendering Vlad's hypnosis powers inert, somehow. Robin glared back, unfazed.

"You'll have to try harder than that."

* * *

Vlad looked stricken. Robin took advantage of his compatriot's momentary silence, lifting the key around his neck and fitting it neatly into Vlad's cuffs. They opened with a satisfying _click_ , and Robin braced himself for the worst, ready to grab the garlic spray if he had to. But Vlad was still just lying there, staring up at him with a stupefied look on his face.

"What?" Robin demanded. "No more hare-brained, idiotic excuses? Good. Because you're coming with me." He grabbed Vlad by the wrist, tugging him upward. To Robin's immense surprise, the other boy stood without a fuss.

It must have been his pep talk, Robin thought to himself with satisfaction. He pulled at Vlad's arm, striding toward the exit, pleased when Vlad followed without a fight.

"Wait," Vlad called out after a moment, not meeting Robin's eyes. "The coffin."

Oh, right. "Well—grab it, then. But we're still going."

Vlad nodded, and fetched the coffin without another word.

As Robin led the way back, following the path he'd marked out on the walls, he took a moment to appreciate the incredible timing of it all. That had been almost too easy.

But he knew the hardest part of the night was ahead of them yet. He still had to somehow convince Vlad that it was a good idea to use _him_ as his own personal blood-bag. At least, until Chloe thought of a better plan.

A small part of him was almost hopeful that she wouldn't.

He spared a glance at his companion. Vlad was staring glumly at the floor, looking dazed and lost. Robin paled as a terrible thought occurred to him. Exactly how long could a new vampire go without proper nourishment?

The poor sod must be starving.

Robin quickened his pace. _Not if I have anything to say about it_ , he thought.


	9. Sacred

Vlad stared resolutely at the floor as they walked; their steps reverberated across the filthy stone corridors.

His hypnosis hadn't worked on Robin. It had completely and utterly failed. And there was one reason, and only one, that a full-powered vampire's hypnosis ever did that.

"Earth to Vlad," Robin announced as they turned the corner. "Seriously, though—do you think you could give the silent treatment a rest?"

"Just trying not to kill you," Vlad gritted through his teeth, though he regretted it immediately—the breath it took to speak sent a cloud of Robin's scent straight down his throat. He tried not to choke on it.

"You could try to be more grateful," Robin chided. "I just saved your life."

Robin missed a step, causing him to stumble. Vlad rushed forward and caught him without a second's thought; then nearly fainted as yet another waft of breather hit him full on. Vlad pushed Robin away, covering his mouth and shooting the other boy a reproachful glare.

"Are you doing okay?" Robin asked. "Do you want to stop and rest for a bit?"

He was still standing much too close.

"I'm fine," Vlad muttered, putting some more distance between them. It was only Vlad's considerable depths of self-loathing that stopped him from getting on one knee and _begging_ Robin to let him take just one, tiny little bite….

 _Just take him_ , a voice piped up in his head. He ignored it. The voice had been torturing him nonstop for the past few hours. It was driving him mad.

Somehow, they made it to the entrance of the crypt. Robin checked his watch, glancing out at the Count's coffin. They inched around it uneasily, making for the hallway beyond.

Four o'clock. Good. The sun wouldn't be setting for at least another hour.

"Actually... on second thought, let's leave the coffin here for now," Robin whispered. "We can come back for it later. I don't want to risk being caught."

Vlad obeyed quietly, glad for the distraction.

* * *

They arrived at the bottom of the tower stairs, Vlad hesitated. "Wait."

Robin looked at him.

"You can't come up, it's not safe. You should go home—your parents are probably wondering where you are by now."

"They're at a tournament." Robin pointed toward the top of the tower. "Upstairs, now." He grabbed Vlad's arm for the second time that evening, and for some reason, Vlad let him.

His composure was fading fast. He halted again halfway up the steps, his voice coming out in an undignified rasp. "Don't you get it, Robin? You're in mortal danger."

Robin shoved at his shoulder. "Stop stalling."

"Don't push this. Please." Vlad pleaded. Robin stared back, waiting. Vlad groaned. "Why can't you just leave me alone in my misery?"

" _Get up there_."

There was something in the way Robin said it—a split second later, Vlad was surprised to find himself at the top of the stairs. He looked down at Robin in bemusement. Thankfully, now that there was a bit more distance between them, his sanity began to return.

Vlad hardened his stance, blocking the doorway with his arms.

Robin continued up the stairs anyway, rolling his eyes as he approached. "For the love of…"

"Stop," Vlad commanded, his powers pushing his voice deeper.

Robin met his eyes calmly when he was less than a foot away. "Yes, Vlad?"

"You're not invited."

"That only works on vampires, idiot." Robin sidestepped him, ducking under his arm.

Vlad twirled, capturing Robin easily and shoving him against the doorframe. "Why don't you ever _listen_ to me?" he growled.

Robin leaned forward, halving the distance between their faces. Vlad held perfectly still, grateful that he didn't have to breathe. He didn't think he could stop himself from doing something truly stupid if he had to put up with any more of Robin's ridiculously tempting scent.

"Because, you're an idiot," Robin said, enunciating his words. He left Vlad, still frozen in front of the doorframe, and strolled casually into the bedroom.

Vlad closed his eyes and counted to five. It didn't help, so he counted backward from ten.

 _Seven... six…._

"What's taking you so long?" Robin yelled from inside. "I haven't got all day, you know."

It was the last straw.

* * *

Vlad stormed in, shutting the door and locking it. Robin eyed Vlad's fangs, raising his chin in defiance. The other boy's normally pale eyes glowed red as he approached.

Robin stepped back, uneasy, but Vlad kept going until the backs of Robin's knees buckled, forcing him to sit heavily on the bed.

Vlad leaned forward, taking advantage of the rare opportunity to be taller than Robin.

"Um… Vlad?"

"Yes, Robin?" Vlad said, echoing Robin's words from earlier.

"Do you mind backing up a bit?" he managed.

Vlad smirked. "Whatever for?"

"I can't think when you're…" Robin looked away, grimacing.

"Yes?"

Robin met his eyes warily. "I wish you'd take this more seriously; or are you not _expiring_ from hunger as we speak?"

Vlad's fangs glinted in the light.

Robin knew that Vlad could hear the hammering in his chest. He leaned his head slowly to one side, bringing his hand to the chain around his neck.

The vampire licked his lips. "Don't do that."

Robin ignored him. "Remember this?" He took hold of the amulet, raising it to the light. "Turns out, it's an ancient Transylvanian relic. Chloe and I found it online. According to our…" Robin hesitated. " _Her_ research, the gem has special properties. Whoever wears it has complete protection from the undead." Robin held his breath, eyeing the other boy warily. "If you bite me when I'm wearing it, I won't turn into a vampire."

"Bite you?" Vlad echoed, staring blankly.

"Yes. As in, drink my blood."

Vlad shook his head, snapping out of his daze. The red light in Vlad's eyes faded. "Not in a _million years._ "

"Be reasonable," Robin insisted. "This could solve all our problems. You're craving my blood like mad; well, this way you can have it."

"It's not _our_ problem," Vlad corrected. "And I'm not risking your mortal soul for a _snack._ "

"There wouldn't be any risk." Robin tapped the small ruby-red gem at the amulet's center. "The amulet of Ecranare is the stuff of legends, Vlad. Don't you understand? This thing's magic will protect me from all supernatural harm."

Vlad had a strange look on his face. Robin sighed, exasperated. "What?"

The other boy wrinkled his nose. "That means 'protecting' in Romanian, you know."

"What, really?" Robin had forgotten Vlad could speak Romanian. "Never mind that. Are you listening? This changes everything." He stood, gripping Vlad by the shoulders, looking into both eyes. "You don't have to deny yourself anymore. At least until we find another way to cure you of your addiction," he finished, sounding breathless.

Vlad stared at him. And then, he stared some more. Robin fidgeted. "Well?"

"Oh, yeah, it's a brilliant idea," Vlad said at last, and Robin's face split into a grin.

"Yeah?"

"Yes," he nodded, expression inscrutable. "You'll make quite the convenient little blood bag. How ever didn't we think of this before?"

Robin's face fell. "You're taking the mick," he said.

Vlad pushed Robin hard in the center of the chest. "Idiot," he seethed. "You really are thick sometimes."

Robin eyed him warily. He knew Vlad wouldn't be keen on the idea, but he hadn't expected such a violent reaction.

"If I wanted to drink human blood," Vlad said carefully, his voice measured and slow, "I could just go down to my dad's blood cellar and grab a bottle. Bottoms up. And then, when that ran out, I could run to hospital and steal some blood bags, or make other arrangements. I would never have to bite a single soul." His voice broke. "Especially not yours."

Robin squinted. "Then why…?"

"Because I _won't_!" Vlad barked. The sconces on the wall burst into flame, and a crackle of thunder could be heard overhead. Robin shrank back.

Vlad left Robin sitting on the bed and ventured to the window, fidgeting with the curtain fabric. He was quiet for nearly a minute, and when he finally spoke, his tone was mild. "Besides. Even if I did want to drink your blood; which I _don't_ ," he said, his voice catching as he stared back at Robin with an intensity that bewildered him, "biting people is… complicated in our world."

"Complicated how?" Robin asked, genuinely lost.

Vlad shot him an exasperated _Do I really have to spell it out for you?_ look. Robin blinked, and suddenly Vlad was less than arm's length away from him.

"Sinking your fangs into someone else's jugular is a really intimate thing to do, Robin." He spoke the words directly into his neck, and Robin's breath caught, his heart pounding in his throat.

"And then," Vlad continued, as if nothing was amiss, "after they turn, an unbreakable bond is formed between them. The victim becomes indebted to their maker for life."

He pulled away. Robin swallowed, and tried to remember how to breathe.

"Try to understand. It's not just about food for us. Vampires will sometimes bite other vampires too, like… at the end of big, important ceremonies." Vlad didn't meet Robin's eyes as he said, "Weddings, for example."

Vlad's cheeks turned the colour of ash, and Robin found himself wondering if vampires could blush.

Vlad bit his lip. "It's almost…. _sacred_ , in a way."

Robin frowned. He really was trying to understand. "Then—are you saying I'm not sacred enough? Is that it?"

"God, Robin, are you really that dense?" At Robin's stare, Vlad amended, "I mean…."

"What?" The taller boy whispered, exasperated. "What am I missing?"

Vlad didn't answer. He was staring at him, eyes clouded and dark, and Robin thought he might have heard something like _too sacred_ , though he couldn't be sure because his heart was pounding in his ears, and Vlad was even closer now, no more than a hand's width between them—his eyes were fixed on Robin's lips, and Robin didn't know if he wanted to bolt or scream or hit him. Why was Vlad _looking_ at him like that?

Vlad hesitated, eyes darting from Robin's fearful gaze to the distressingly small space separating their bodies, and stepped away, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "I'm sorry, I don't..."

Robin's neck felt hot. "That's all right. You're not feeling yourself," he said, clamming up when Vlad looked at him expectantly.

It seemed as if Vlad wanted to say something else, but a loud gurgle wrenched the air, interrupting him.

Robin's resolve hardened. There were more important things than looking like a fool. "I know you don't want to do this," he said. "I know you don't want to have anything to do with being a vampire. But you've got to face the facts—you are one, now, and you need my blood. Chloe and I are still looking for a solution, but we haven't found one yet, and I'm not about to let you starve."

He gestured at Vlad's tense frame; eyeing his tightly crossed arms, the pallor in his cheeks and blue-tinged lips. "I mean, just look at yourself. You're falling apart." At Vlad's continued silence, he corrected himself awkwardly. "Well, I guess you can't look at yourself—obviously. But I _can_ , and I'm telling you, you look bloody awful."

"Thanks," Vlad joked darkly, although the humour fell somewhat short. He ran trembling hands through his hair, and Robin watched in sympathy as the vampire turned away. He was shaking like a leaf.

"You're making yourself crazy, Vlad. You're always doing that." He stepped closer, and, to his relief, Vlad stayed put. He put a hand on the other man's shoulder. "You tell me I'm selfish; and you're right. But you—you're the most selfless person I know."

He tugged at the arm until Vlad turned to face him. He was covering his mouth and nose, and looked utterly lost.

"You don't deserve to suffer like this," Robin said quietly. He dropped his hand. "Please? Let me do this for you?"

Vlad looked at him for a long moment, and then said under his breath, somewhat enigmatically: "Whoever made freckles ought to burn in hell."

Robin smelled victory. "It's worth a try, at least. And if you don't like it, or it feels too awful, we can always stop."

The vampire stared at him in disbelief. "Did you really just say that?"

"I'm not kidding," Robin stressed.

"As if I somehow wouldn't like…." Vlad licked his lips. "The _problem_ is whether I'd stop at all." His face tightened. "What if I seriously hurt you? I couldn't live with myself."

"You'll stop," Robin said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You'd never be able hurt me. I know that for a fact."

"What happens if I take too much? If you wear the necklace, you can't rely on turning into a vampire if things get too…. And if you don't wear it, well." Vlad looked horrified at the thought. "I'm not biting you at all."

"This is progress," Robin grinned. "You're considering it."

"I am not," Vlad denied, scandalized. "And why are you smiling? We're discussing your immanent death, here."

"Because I realize that I forgot to tell you something else about the necklace," Robin said.

Vlad crossed his arms. "What?"

Robin reached for the amulet, lifting it to the light as he said, "The Amulet of Ecranare offers absolute protection to its wearer from vampires. You can't force me to do anything I don't want to do. If you go too far, I can use this necklace to fight back."

After another excruciating minute Vlad said, very slowly, "And you promise you're telling me the truth? About preventing the transformation?"

"You know I'm a terrible liar," Robin reminded him. "As long as I'm wearing it, you can't hurt me. You can't even touch me without my permission."

Vlad seemed skeptical.

"Why don't you just try," Robin drawled, leaning back and bracing himself on the bed with his hands.

Vlad raised an eyebrow, then without warning sped forward until they were standing knee-to-knee. Robin couldn't quite stop himself from flinching. The vampire held out a finger and tapped Robin gently on the forehead, then crossed his arms with a smug look. "I think the amulet's powers might have been slightly exaggerated."

Robin scowled. "You caught me by surprise, that's all. Do it again." Vlad rolled his eyes, but decided to humor him. After all, what could it hurt?

He reached again for Robin's temple, but this time, found that he was unable to move his hand any closer than about an inch, as if his fingers were blocked by an invisible force field. Robin grinned, as Vlad pressed forward as hard as he could.

After a second, the field budged and his hand finally made contact. Though Vlad had clearly put all of his strength into it, the touch could barely count as a tap.

"That's what happens when I let you," Robin said, feeling terribly pleased with himself. "You lucky vampire, you."

Vlad's stomach growled again. The two of them glanced down at it, then at each other. Vlad's expression was unreadable.

"Okay," he said, finally. "You win."

Robin blinked. "Really?"

Vlad sat on the bed beside his companion. "...Yes."


	10. Bitey, Bitey

"So—how should we do this?" Robin asked, his too-tight grip on the edge of the bed belying his attempt at casualness.

Vlad shrugged, feeling a bit silly. He'd never paid much attention to his hunting lessons back when they still lived with the Westenra clan. "Is there anywhere in particular you'd like me to, er…?"

"Anywhere," Robin answered, the response a bit _too_ quick. His face turned a marvelous shade of red. "I mean, the neck is fine."

Vlad stared at him. He was careful to keep his voice measured as he said, "A bit eager, are we?"

Robin scowled at him, looking uncomfortable. "No. I'm just glad we're getting on with it."

Vlad stifled a grin, deciding to have a bit of fun.

Keeping his face schooled into an expression of ignorance, he ran the fingers of his left hand down the other boy's neck, dragging them to the juncture between Robin's neck and collarbone. "So, here's good, then?" Vlad asked innocently.

Robin coughed. "I mean, yeah, if you want."

Vlad took a moment to admire the smooth skin of Robin's neck, dotted here and there with freckles and flushed a dull pink. Despite his friend's adamant denial, he could practically taste Robin's excitement.

Vlad winced as his fangs slid into place.

Robin eyed them with interest. "Does it hurt when they do that?" he asked, curiosity winning out over embarrassment. He lifted a hand to touch, but Vlad grabbed his wrist.

"Only a little," he hedged.

Robin's pupils had become large, and he was doing that lip-wetting thing again. "Oh. That bites." He grinned at Vlad, with the face that said _that was a great pun, and you know it._

Robin made a lot of faces. Vlad knew them all.

At least, he had thought he did. He wasn't entirely sure how to classify the one Robin was making now. If Vlad didn't know better, he would say that Robin was aroused.

He quashed the sudden pang of longing at the thought. Vlad knew that Robin was only hot and bothered over the prospect of being _bitten_ , not getting felt up by his best mate.

Vlad cursed the unhelpful tightening in his trousers, as Robin stared back at him with an expectant look. Vlad let go of his wrist, clearing his throat.

What did it matter, anyway? There was no way Vlad was going to pursue a relationship with Robin.

His fangs ached, as if telling him to get on with it already.

He marshaled what remained of his resolve, brushing his fingertips against a spot midway up Robin's neck. His touch raised goosebumps on the other boy's skin.

"Go ahead," Robin managed after a few seconds, tilting his head and exposing more pale flesh.

"Let me know if it hurts?" Vlad's voice was barely a whisper as he said it, and at Robin's terse nod, he leaned forward and hovered over the spot marked by his fingers.

"Stop worrying," Robin said. He hissed as Vlad's mouth pressed against his skin.

Vlad stiffened, but Robin held tight to his shoulder. "It's okay. Your skin's just cold."

Vlad was feeling too many things at once; he closed his eyes, reveling in the feeling of Robin's hand in his hair and the warm breath at his ear. He breathed in Robin's intoxicating scent, his mouth watering. So hungry...

Before he could change his mind, Vlad bit down gently, fangs just barely breaking skin. Robin made a small keening sound, and Vlad panicked, losing his nerve.

He drew back, staring at the four prick marks marring Robin's otherwise perfect flesh.

Robins eyes were unfocused. "...Vlad?"

The vampire shook his head. "Sorry, I... I just need a second."

The other teen nodded stiffly. His face was flushed. "Take your time."

Vlad felt completely out of his element. He always knew he would make a dreadful vampire, but even he hadn't anticipated this level of failure. What was the problem? He was hungry, his prey was right there, willing and waiting to get his blood sucked. So why couldn't he _do_ it?

Vlad looked at the place where he had bitten Robin. Four large beads of blood had welled up on the surface of the other boy's skin; two of them started to run down his shoulder. Without thinking Vlad bent forward to stop them with his mouth, gasping as the drops landed on his tongue. _Oh._ It felt—Robin tasted….

Vlad whimpered as the drops became a flood. Robin's blood was hot, and wet, and perfect.

He groaned, suddenly desperate to get as much of it into his mouth as possible. It wasn't enough. He needed _more_. He braced his hand on the other side of Robin's neck.

Robin moaned as Vlad's teeth sank deep into his flesh, but this time, instead of pulling away, Vlad pulled his prey closer. Without breaking contact, he pushed Robin onto his back and leaned over him, supporting his weight on his elbows.

Robin let out a small whine, the sound tumbling like water down Vlad's spine, and clutched at the back of Vlad's neck like his life depended on it. His breathing had become labored, and he panted against Vlad's ear. Vlad groaned, pressing closer. He hadn't known it would be this good.

Robin's heartbeat seemed to be getting slower. Vlad retracted his fangs, pulling back as far as he could in Robin's tight grip to get a better look at him. He looked a bit paler than usual. Robin was always pale, of course, but…

Vlad reluctantly extricated himself from Robin's embrace, wiping self-consciously at his mouth with the back of his hand.

The wound at Robin's neck continued to ooze blood; Vlad pressed his hand against it, and looked around himself for a tissue. He hadn't planned this far ahead. "Robin—you're bleeding."

"Obviously." Robin giggled. He sounded drunk.

"We've got to get you a plaster, or something; um…." he looked around wildly, cursing. It was hard to think when the smell of Robin's blood still hung thick in the air.

"Vlaaad," Robin whined at him, lids heavy, "you can keep going…. I like it a lot. Feels good…."

"No, Robin, we're stopping," Vlad insisted, doing his best to remember what little he had learned about first aid from his phys-ed classes. He thought there might be some bandages in his trunk.

He replaced his hand with Robin's. "Put that there, and hold still," Vlad instructed, trying not to panic. "And _don't_ let go. I need to find something to stop the bleeding."

He raced to his trunk, rummaging around. Nothing. He crossed to his drawers, emerging triumphantly with cotton balls and iodine.

He pulled Robin's hand away from the wound, licking at a few rogue drops that had spilled in his absence—some of it had gotten onto Robin's shirt, but they didn't have time to worry about that right now. He closed his eyes at the taste, and struggled against the sudden impulse to bite Robin again, to _finish_ what he'd started. He was grateful to find that he could.

He uncorked the solution, pouring some of it onto the cotton and dabbing carefully at Robin's neck. But before he could get far, the surface of Robin's skin shone with an ethereal light. Vlad stared in disbelief as the wound knit itself shut before his very eyes.

Vlad froze, feeling sick. Had they completely misjudged? Was Robin turning into…? He couldn't even complete the thought.

But no, that couldn't be it—Robin's heart was still beating strong, and his chest rose and fell below him in a steady rhythm.

Robin glanced at him with a grin, and said, "I'm okay, Vlad. Quit worrying. Just a bit tired…. And hungry, actually."

Vlad jumped up. "I'll get you something. Stay here, I'll be right back."

He locked the door behind him. With any luck, he'd be able to find _something_ palatable stashed away in Renfield's cupboards.

* * *

By some miracle, Vlad hadn't run into anyone on the way to or from the kitchens—he'd been so sure Ingrid would find him, smell the blood on him, and gloat at his moment of weakness.

He returned to a rare sight: his best friend, fast asleep. Vlad listened to Robin's strong, steady heartbeat with equal parts relief and self-loathing.

He brought one of his chairs to the edge of the bed and sank into it with a heavy heart, staring at Robin's chest as it rose and fell. He had half expected to return to find Robin newly initiated into the world of the undead; Robin's reassurances about the amulet aside. Vlad cursed himself again for ever agreeing to this stupid plan in the first place.

Still, despite his misgivings, he couldn't help but feel somewhat… giddy at the knowledge of what they'd done.

Vlad had really done it. He had drunk the blood of a human being, willingly.

 _Robin was willing, too_ , the voice in his head reminded him. _All too willing_. He touched his lips, remembering how Robin's skin had felt as it pulsed beneath his mouth. How Robin had arched beneath him, moaning in ecstasy….

He glanced down at the forgotten bread in his hand, knowing that he should wake his friend and make him eat.

But as he looked down at the figure curled up on his old bed, he hesitated. Robin looked absolutely debauched: his hair was in complete disarray, his shirt was wrinkled, and the grey fabric was dark near the right edge of his collar.

As Vlad watched, Robin stirred, stretching with his eyes closed. He wiped his face groggily, then stiffened. "Vlad?" His eyes snapped open, and he sat up, visibly relieved as he spotted him.

He clutched at his head from the sudden movement. "Sorry," he muttered. "I didn't mean to fall asleep."

Vlad placed a hand on his forehead. "You should take it easy," he scolded. "And don't sit up so fast."

Robin's eyes were a bit more dilated than normal, but other than that he seemed okay. Vlad let out a sigh of relief. "How are you feeling? Still tired?"

"M'aright." He scratched his neck, hesitating as he touched the spot where Vlad had bit him. He looked at Vlad sharply. "What…?"

"The amulet healed you." Vlad bit his lip.

Robin remained silent for several seconds, before spotting the bread in Vlad's hand. "I'll take that. Thanks."

"Right." Vlad handed it over, wondering if he looked half as awkward as he felt.

"Feeling any better?" Robin asked, eyeing him as he took a large bite out of the roll.

" _Me_? It's you I'm worried about." The other boy continued to look him over as he chewed. Vlad nearly smacked himself. "Crap, I forgot to get you water. Hang on." He made to get up, but Robin pushed him back down.

"Seriously. Are you okay?"

Vlad met Robin's gaze for a brief moment. "I feel fantastic," Vlad admitted, looking away. "And I feel terrible about it."

Robin swallowed the last of the roll and cleared his throat. He leaned back against the pillows, wiping the crumbs off his chest, looking deeply satisfied. "If it makes you feel better, it was pretty fantastic on my end, too."

Vlad's cheeks felt weird. "Really?" he asked, squirming as Robin shot him a wicked grin.

"Yeah. It was hot as hell."

Vlad choked. "What?" he managed eventually. Robin laughed, pointing to himself.

"Hello? Vampire-freak? Blood-sucking is kind of my _thing_ , remember?" Robin grinned at him. "I can't tell you how long I've wanted you to do that. Since we met, actually."

Vlad looked away, heart sinking. Of course that's what he meant. Vlad straightened, nodding in the direction of the door. "Once you're feeling better, you should probably leave. It's getting late."

Robin's eyebrows rose. "What did I say?"

Vlad growled. "Nothing." Robin looked incredulous, but stayed silent. The vampire pinched the bridge of his nose, as some of his anger dissipated. "I can't... I can't be what you want me to be. All right?"

"What's this really about?" Robin asked, his voice careful. "You drank my blood. I liked it. You liked it. So what's the problem?"

"I swore to myself that I'd never bite a human," Vlad spat, putting his head in his hands. His eyes stung. "I don't want to be a monster."

"You're _not_ a monster," Robin insisted, sitting up and putting his hands on Vlad's shoulders. "You need to stop listening to the Count. _You_ are in charge of your own destiny."

Vlad looked at him warily. Robins gaze was intense.

A loud rapping broke the silence.

"Are you two done kissing up, yet?" a muffled voice called through the door.


	11. An Innocent Misunderstanding

They looked at each other. "Chloe?"

Vlad stared at the door. She hadn't been to the castle since… well.

"I don't know how the two of you get anything done. You're absolutely hopeless." When neither of them responded, she hollered, "Well?"

Robin hurried to the door, unlocking it. Chloe burst in, red-faced and hair disheveled. "This castle gives me the creeps," she announced, and, not waiting to be invited, crossed the room and stole Robin's spot on the bed. He closed the door with a look of mild irritation—but said nothing, instead crossing his arms and leaning against the door.

"Did you find something?" he asked.

Chloe glanced over at him; she was about to respond, but stopped herself, staring at her brother with renewed interest. "What on earth have _you_ two been up to?"

Robin looked down at himself, then back at her. "What?"

Chloe rolled her eyes, turning to Vlad. "I'm proud of you, Vlad. That must have been very difficult for you."

"What?" Vlad asked, alarmed. Robin's wounds were completely sealed. He'd checked.

Robin seemed to be wondering the same thing; he crossed to Vlad's mirror and shrieked. "My hair," he gasped.

"If you don't want to talk about it, that's absolutely fine," Chloe said diplomatically, though her grin was a bit too smug to pull it off. She glanced between the two of them, eyes sparkling. "Anyway, I'm very happy for you both."

"You are?" Since when did Chloe approve of vampires taking the blood of innocents? He and Robin traded puzzled looks.

Chloe seemed disappointed by their reaction. "I would have hoped you'd give me a bit more credit than that." She took patted Vlad's hand. "You're still you, in the end, aren't you? If you ever do want to talk about it, I can give you my friend's number—he's really sweet, goes to another school."

For once, Robin was the first to get it. "Not this again, Chloe. I've told you before, we're _not_ like that."

Vlad stared from Chloe to Robin and back again. The other shoe dropped—he waved his hands. "What? No! We're not—" he looked at Robin with alarm.

Robin shook his head vigorously. "Absolutely not."

Chloe let go of Vlad's hand, putting some space between the two of them on the bed. "Then what were you doing?" She glanced between the two of them, her face growing pale as she put two and two together. "You… you bit him, didn't you?"

Vlad didn't know what to say. He had, and that was the simple truth. He braced himself for the worst.

But Robin came to his rescue. "I made him do it," he said, hastily. "He was starving! And I was wearing the necklace, so it all worked out in the end."

Chloe stood, crossing to her brother. She pulled his face down to eye level, twisting his head sharply this way and that. She eyed his neck, spotting the dried blood on his shirt collar. "You're still human?" she confirmed, cautiously. Robin nodded. "Good." She slapped him smartly across the face, and Robin yelped.

"You weren't supposed to let him bite you," she whispered, voice low. "You were just supposed to make sure he didn't bump himself off while I looked up a way to save his stupid life."

She looked over her shoulder. "Sorry, Vlad. Your life isn't stupid." She glared at her brother. "You, I'm not so sure about. What if something had gone wrong? You can't just go barging off and making life-altering decisions without all the facts! I would have given this hare-brained scheme at most a 30% chance of success."

Vlad stiffened. "What." He stared at Robin. "You… did what?"

Chloe looked at him apologetically. "You're both incredibly lucky the necklace worked." She lifted the amulet, peering at the tiny gem more closely. "I guess it really is the Amulet of Ecranare, after all. Slayers have been searching for this thing for centuries."

She poked her brother in the chest. "You'd better keep that thing hidden. If either of the Van Helsings realize you have it, Vlad is going to be in huge danger." She lowered her voice, looking back at the door. "Vlad, is anyone out there?"

Vlad stood, putting his renewed anger at Robin aside for the moment, and listened closely. "The coast is clear. Why?"

"After Robin left to come find you, I did some more digging. If the legends are true, then this amulet is the ultimate vampire-slaying weapon. Anyone who wields it becomes as strong and as fast as a vampire; they can't be turned, and they can't be stopped. If a certain slayer family got their hands on it…." She left the rest up to their imagination.

* * *

Vlad stared at the necklace in disgust. "Robin—we've got to get rid of that thing."

Robin paled, pulling it out of his sister's hand and tucking it under his shirt. "We can't; it's the best plan we've got for feeding you. I won't let you starve." He crossed his arms over his shirt protectively. "We'll just have to keep it hidden."

Vlad held out his hand. "Robin. Give it here," he growled.

Chloe shook her head. "No, I think Robin's right. For once…." She turned to Vlad. "Blood given willingly is the most addictive substance there is to a vampire. Robin is _not_ safe from you if he takes off that necklace."

Vlad, if possible, grew paler. "I won't hurt him," he insisted, eyes wide.

Chloe gave him a pitying look. "You're very strong, Vlad. But even if you were the strongest vampire in existence, you'd have no hope of resisting him."

Vlad nodded. His mind was made up. "Right. Robin, you're getting rid of that thing." He crossed to his coffin, grabbing his handcuffs. "And I'm leaving." Chloe glanced up at him, taken aback.

"No!" Robin flitted to his side in an instant. "I won't let you!"

Chloe and Vlad stared at him, aghast. "Robin," Vlad managed. "Look."

"No. I don't care what you say, suicide is out of the question."

Chloe put a hand on his shoulder. "Robin—look _down_."

"What?" Robin glanced between the two of them, then looked down at the floor. His shoes were smoking. "Ahh!" he yelped, stamping his feet.

"You're as fast as a vampire, now," Vlad said, awestruck. Chloe nodded.

"Faster, probably," she agreed. "Don't scuff your feet when you walk. It's not good for your shoes." She hid a small grin.

Robin pinched himself. "Am I dreaming?" he asked suspiciously. Vlad and Chloe shook their heads slowly. "This is incredible!" He looked down at his hands. "I wonder what else I can do?"

Robin's elation was contagious; even Vlad was smiling. At least, until he remembered he was leaving. "It doesn't matter, though, does it?" Vlad asked. "I can't just drink your blood forever," he said, sparing an uncomfortable glance in Chloe's direction.

"Why _not_?" Robin complained. "I wouldn't mind!"

"Mortals like us don't do 'forever', remember?" Chloe reminded him.

Vlad shook his head. "It's not just that. That necklace is a ticking time bomb. It's not just you and me at stake, here." He winced at his choice of words. "It's my entire culture. And…" he was loath to admit it, but, "as much as I hate being a vampire, I can't just turn my back on my people. They may be horrible, but… they're still family." He glared at the lump under Robin's shirt. "That thing puts all vampires at risk."

Robin looked close to tears. "I don't want you to die," he said.

"I don't want _you_ to die! Or my kind." Vlad insisted. "As long as I'm around, nobody is safe."

"Oh, stop it, both of you!" Chloe barked. " _No one_ is going to die." She put her hair into a bun, a determined glint in her eyes. "There's no need to be so dramatic. Now, we have two problems we need to solve. Right?"

Vlad and Robin just looked at her. She sighed.

"Vlad is addicted to your blood. That's obviously bad for many reasons. We'll have to find a way around it. I'll do my best to search for a cure. Second, that amulet is hideous and huge and totally obvious, and you'll never be able to wear it in public without risking a slayer noticing. But you also can't risk taking it off." She stared at it, thoughtfully. "Okay, three problems—whoever sold us that thing has our mum's credit card information."

Vlad's eyes widened. "That's not good."

Chloe raised a hand. "It's all right, I can fix it. It's the other bits I'm worried about."

Robin chewed his lip. "Is there a way to prevent the necklace from coming off? That way it wouldn't matter if anyone saw it."

Chloe barked out a surprised laugh. "Don't be ridiculous." She paused, looking thoughtful. "Except actually, you might be onto something."

Vlad and Robin glanced at each other and shrugged.

"Vlad?" Chloe cracked her knuckles. "Take me to your library."


	12. Research

Robin ducked as another book flew through the air, nearly hitting him in the head. Chloe was bent at the waist, rummaging around a low, dusty shelf; every so often, she barked out an order, and Vlad did his best to comply.

Chloe hadn't yet said what she was looking for, but he knew better than to press the issue. After all, they were desperate.

A few minutes later, Chloe emerged clutching a fat, leather-bound tome. "Mm-hmm," she chortled, crossing to a nearby desk and pushing papers and quills aside before sitting primly on a nearby velvet-lined chair. The book hit the table with a loud 'thud'.

She opened the brown cover with worshipful fingers, caressing each page as she turned it and ignoring the room's other occupants completely.

She paused after a minute of searching, her face screwing up, and sneezed twice.

"Bless you," Vlad said politely.

Robin was shuffling from foot to foot. "Is there anything we can do?" he asked, drumming his fingers on the back of her chair.

"Yes: be quiet," Chloe advised, hardly sparing him a glance.

Robin scowled, looking put out as he sat on a small wooden chair opposite his sister and began playing with the amulet absentmindedly; rotating the rings of metal this way and that, pausing every so often to sigh dramatically.

Vlad tuned him out and stared at Chloe's blond head instead, wondering what she was thinking.

He'd always known she was a genius, but had never fully appreciated just how bright she was for her age. He doubted he would have been able to study advanced differential calculus at fourteen. He was happy to see her in the castle again, although perhaps not under the circumstances. As it was, she wouldn't even be here in the first place if it wasn't for the mess he and Robin had gotten themselves into.

Vlad was distracted from his thoughts as he spotted something glittering in the soft candlelight. Robin was twisting the thick chain of the amulet between his fingers, squinting at it with a calculating expression. Vlad opened his mouth, but before he could comment Robin had lifted the whole thing above his head so he could examine the amulet more closely.

"Put that back on!" Vlad ordered, retreating to the opposite end of the room with wide eyes. "It's not safe. Chloe, tell him."

"What? I'm still holding it."

Chloe looked up from her reading long enough to glare at the both of them. "Be quiet, you two, I'm trying to read." She returned to her book. "Robin, stop being an idiot and put it on."

Robin scowled again. "What's the big deal? I just want to get a closer look." He pulled at the thin wires encasing the gem, attempting to pry them open. "I think the stone might come out…."

Vlad growled. "Don't! We don't know how it works."

"…Oops." The gem popped out from between the wires, falling into his palm. About the size of a pea, the stone glittered in the torchlight.

* * *

"Robin!" Vlad yelled. Chloe stood, walking around the desk. Her face had gone a faint shade of purple.

"What did you do?" She demanded. "Vlad, stay back. No biting."

Vlad scoffed, "I'll see what I can do," though he had enough sense to look contrite when Chloe shot him a _look_."I won't, okay?"

"Robin, give me your garlic spray," she said testily, and Robin handed it over without a word. "Shut your eyes and mouth." At his look of protest, she affirmed, "Just do it." Robin obeyed, allowing Chloe to spray every inch of him. Vlad held his sleeve to his nose, holding his breath.

"Ugh," he groaned in distaste. "You smell hideous, Robin."

"That's the point," Chloe said as she sprayed herself as well. Satisfied, she snatched the gem from Robin's hand.

"Hey!"

Chloe stuck out her chin. "You can't be trusted with it. I'm going to hold onto it until I've worked out a way to transfer its magic to you."

Vlad lowered his arm. "Is that the plan, then?" His eyes widened. "Did you find something?"

"…Not yet," Chloe said, clearly biting back an _obviously_. "But I think Robin had the right idea. If we can find a way to make the effects of the amulet stick, even in the absence of the physical necklace, then…."

"Then the Van Helsings can't get their mitts on it, and Vlad can keep biting me," Robin cut in, grinning. "That's genius." At Chloe's thunderous expression, he amended, "You. You're a genius."

"Necklace," she said witheringly, and Robin obeyed, handing over the rest without another word. "According to _Magicke Artifacts,_ there have been others who have successfully repossessed the power of magical jewelry and transferred it to themselves. But apparently, none of them were particularly keen on spilling their secrets." She sighed, grabbing the tome off the desk and stashing in her bag. "I'm going to keep looking. There's loads of historical references in here about sorcerers who have managed to extract power from stones, so I think it's fairly common practice…."

But Vlad had stopped listening. He'd simply been through too much in the last twenty-four hours to grapple with the complexities of magical metallurgy.

The exhaustion must have shown on his face, because Robin stopped Chloe with a hand. "Vlad needs to go to bed."

Vlad blinked, shaking his head. "It's still nighttime, I can't sleep yet." He hid a yawn behind his hand.

Chloe checked her wrist. "It's nearly seven. Robin's right, we should be getting home." She eyed Vlad warily. "Are you going to be all _right_ if we leave?"

Vlad fidgeted under the weight of their combined stares. "I'm not going to off myself while you're gone, if that's what you're getting at."

Robin looked relieved, and Chloe nodded. "Fair enough. Come on, Robin." She grabbed his hand, leading him to the door.

Vlad held his breath as they passed, recoiling as the stench of garlic burned at his nose and eyes. Robin threw a concerned look over his shoulder when they reached the doorway, which Vlad returned.

"Let me walk you out, at least," Vlad tried. "What if you run into Ingrid?"

Chloe waved the bottle of garlic spray in his direction. "We'll be fine," she assured him. "I'll work on this some more tonight, and let you know if I find anything useful."

* * *

Vlad sighed wistfully. The door swung shut—only to be opened again a moment later.

"Chloe? I—Oh. Will?" Vlad looked at him, surprised. "Where's Ingrid? I thought the two of you were inseparable."

"Usually, yes." Will smiled, leaning his arm against the doorway. "I was hoping you and I could have a little chat."

Vlad cocked his head, considering it. "Maybe later," he said at last. "I've been up all day—I think I should lie down for a while."

He made to leave, but Will's arm blocked his path. Vlad frowned; he was not in the mood for an argument. "Please—"

"I know that you drank the breather's blood," Will interjected, and Vlad froze.

He stared, at a loss for words. "I…"

Will shook his head. "I'm not going to tell anyone," he said, and his voice was earnest. Vlad wanted to believe him.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Will shrugged. "I won't say anything, not even to Ingrid. I give you my word. I just want to know how Robin's still human."

Vlad became, if possible, even paler at his words. "I really, really don't…"

Will raised an eyebrow. "I smell blood on him, but he's not cut anywhere. I know it's his blood—O negative, I believe? I caught a whiff of that so-called soya substitute. I'm sure it's his."

Vlad shrank in on himself. "The cut was healed magically," he hedged, not meeting Will's eyes. It was partly true.

Will seemed to sense this wasn't the whole story, but to Vlad's relief, he dropped his arm. "Fine. I believe you," he said, lowering his voice. "Though you might want to have Robin change his shirt next time. Ingrid is bound to notice if I did."

Vlad nodded, unable to look him in the eye as he passed. When Will had gone, he checked both ways, before making his way to the crypt to retrieve his coffin.

Back at his tower bedroom door, he rested his head against the wood. He stood like that for several minutes, the events of the past few hours swimming behind his eyelids.

Eventually, he opened the door and slipped inside.

* * *

He turned, surprised to find Zoltan milling about by the window. For some reason, he was wearing a large, ruffled pink dress. Vlad set his coffin down in the center of the room, and crossed his arms.

"Zoltan, where in the world have you been?" Vlad asked, his voice accusing. "Do you have the slightest idea how much crap I've been through the past few days? I _turned_." He sniffed. "What are you wearing?"

Zoltan looked about as abashed as it was possible for a stuffed hellhound to look.

"I'm sorry, Master Vlad," he simpered. "Your sister tied me up and threw me in the dungeons. She said my 'judgy pestering' was getting on her nerves." He sniffed. "I suppose it could have been worse. Renfield eventually heard my lonely howls and came to free me from my prison. But not before dressing me up like this."

Vlad felt a stab of guilt. "I'm sorry for not coming to look for you," he replied. "Here, let me help."

After a minute of struggling, they managed to extricate the wolf from the horrid lacy garment. Vlad clutched it in his fist, concentrating. He grinned smugly as the dress burst into flames. The two of them watched as the blaze engulfed the fabric.

"I've had a rotten couple of days," Vlad admitted, at last.

Zoltan's eyes glittered. "Tell me everything."

And so, he did.

The words took him by storm, and once he had begun, he found he couldn't stop. He poured into the sordid tale all his misery during the transformation, describing his hope and relief over finding a blood substitute, and subsequent despair after discovering that Ingrid had tricked him into drinking Robin's blood. He told of the crippling hunger, and the horrible longing to drain his best friend dry.

He even told him about the amulet, and about biting Robin; how it had felt so good, and so terrifying, to finally give in to his cravings.

Zoltan, as always, was a prodigious listener. He never once interrupted or asked questions that Vlad couldn't answer.

After what felt like hours, but was probably more like thirty minutes, Vlad stopped, finally spent; he opened his coffin and clambered inside, crossing his arms over his chest. He was more tired than he could remember being in recent memory.

"Zoltan?" Vlad asked after a minute or so of silence. "Can I tell you something?"

"I thought you already vere?"

Vlad laughed. "True. It's just…." he rolled onto his side. The coffin was surprisingly comfortable.

Now that he wasn't distracted by hunger, he might even be able to enjoy it.

"There's something else," he started, unsure how to begin.

But Zoltan had always been more perceptive than he looked. "You are vondering vat to do about your feelings for Robin," he quietly observed.

After a long minute of tense silence, Vlad answered. "Yes."

Zoltan exhaled. "I'm afraid you vill haf to make that decision for yourself."

"I thought you'd say that," Vlad muttered, closing his eyes. He yawned. "I think…."

"…Yes?" Zoltan inquired. But when he rolled to the edge of the coffin, it was to find his young companion fast asleep.

* * *

Not for the first time, Zoltan dearly wished he had hands, so that he could close Vlad's lid and let him rest.

He lingered by the coffin covers. After a while, his thoughts were interrupted by a low voice near the window.

"Hello, wretched beast."

Zoltan's tail puffed in fear, and he scrambled backward as the Count approached Vlad's coffin from the opposite side. He stared down at his son's sleeping figure with an unusually pensive look. He may only have caught the tail end of their conversation, but he'd heard enough.

What Ingrid had been insinuating all these years was true: Vlad did care for the breather, as more than just a friend. He and Vlad would have to have a long talk about _that_ , later. But even the Count could see the heavy circles under his son's eyes.

He would let him sleep. For now.

The worst of the Count's anger had subsided over the past several hours, but it bothered him deeply that Vlad still refused to consider drinking blood, even from animals.

He knew that his son was in the midst of an identity crisis. He wasn't stupid—he knew full well that Vlad had never wanted to be a vampire. But the Count also knew that self-denial was unsustainable, even with the best of intentions. He had hoped the transformation would change his son's mind about the whole abstinence idea, though it obviously had done little to deter him.

He worried for what might happen to his son's health, should he continue to practice this foolish vegetarianism. Even his brother Ivan had given into temptation after a few short decades. And how nutritious could a substitute made from _plants_ —he shuddered at the thought—really be for a growing vampire?

"Zoltan," he demanded, and the hellhound's hackles raised as he glared down at the beast. "Make sure no one else disturbs him. Send him to my quarters as soon as he awakens."

He waved his hand, and the lids to Vlad's coffin closed with a gentle _thud_.

Zoltan bowed his head. "Very well." The Count stalked to the door, which swung open immediately to let him through.

He dearly hoped he could get the boy to see reason.


	13. Tales of Yore

When Vlad awoke, his world was black.

He rubbed at his eyes, disoriented, until his elbows knocked loudly into a hard something just inches above his head. _Oh, right. I sleep in a coffin, now._

He sighed, cracking his neck, and pushed at the lid. His vision was irritatingly slow to adjust to the red glow given off by his alarm clock.

When he could see again, he checked the time. It was just after two AM.

He yawned and stretched, grinning as he spotted his sawdust-stuffed hellhound snoozing by the door. "Zoltan!" he called out softly.

The canine opened one glowing red eye. "Good evening, Master Vlad."

"Good evening." Vlad felt unaccountably chipper—perhaps he had needed the sleep more than he realized.

"Your father wishes to speak with you," the hellhound murmured from his spot on the ground.

Vlad gulped, good cheer souring at the reminder. "Right," he said. Well, he had known he'd have to face him eventually.

He cracked his knuckles, wondering how long he'd be grounded for this time—and froze, as a new possibility occurred to him.

Had Will told the Count about Robin? If so, Vlad would never hear the end of it.

He felt a migraine coming on. He cursed under his breath, squeezing the bridge of his nose. Next time, he'd make sure to feed somewhere other than the castle.

He blinked, considering. Would there be a next time?

Dangerous thought. Vlad tugged at his shorts, decidedly uncomfortable. He steadfastly focused his mind's eye on the image of Renfield in a French maid's outfit, lest his thoughts begin to wander in an even more dangerous direction.

That seemed to help matters considerably. He grimaced.

"All right, let's get this over with," he said finally, eyeing the hellhound. "Where is he?"

* * *

The Count paced the length of the crypt, for once not sure how best to broach his son's least favorite subject—blood.

He'd tried arguing and pleading with the boy. And now, Vlad's transformation had lost him his favorite bargaining chip; he could hardly threaten to pull Vlad out of school. He'd have to try something new. Something that even a strong-willed teenage vampire could understand.

He looked up at the sound of footsteps.

"Come in," he called into the hallway. His son's face appeared around the corner, his expression satisfyingly cowed.

"You wanted to talk to me?" he replied, stepping into the candlelight.

"Yes. I wanted to speak to you about a potentially difficult subject. It's… well, when a young vampire comes of age, his body goes through certain changes. One of them is, of course, overwhelming bloodlust, which tends to be very easily confused for—ah, feelings of a romantic nature."

"Oh, Dad; _please_ don't," Vlad pleaded, and the Count cursed. "Not the _talk_."

"It's not what you think," he insisted. His son crossed his arms, staring glumly at the floor.

Vlad, for his part, was doing his best to rein in any outward signs of panic. _He knows. He_ has _to know._

"Actually—I wanted to tell you about my transformation."

Vlad looked up. " _Your_ transformation?" he managed, not sure he'd heard him right.

"Yes," the Count agreed. "There's something I haven't told you, and I think it might help you to hear it."

Vlad waited, curious. His father resumed pacing the length of the stone floor.

Finally, after what felt like ages, the Count paused under a wall sconce, staring into the flames with a faraway look.

"When I was a child… well, I was always excited to be a vampire, growing up. Until about two years before my transformation."

Vlad stared. Then stared some more. This time, he was _positive_ he'd heard him incorrectly.

The Count seemed agitated. "When I was fourteen, I fell in love with a breather girl—she was the daughter of a priest, and lived in the town near my family's castle. Her name was Juliana." He glanced briefly at Vlad's slack-jawed expression, and continued. "The two of us met in secret once a week. For those two years, we were inseparable. My father hated the villagers, and once, when he found us together by the castle gates, he forbid me from ever interacting with breathers again. But I couldn't bear to be apart from her." His eyes took on a faraway look. "Her voice was like that of an angel—she used to sing to me, you know. That was what first drew me to her." The Count crossed to a nearby tomb cover, sitting gingerly and patting the spot next to him. Dumbstruck, Vlad obliged, unable to speak.

"Three nights before the eve of my sixteenth birthday, the two of us made a plan to run away together. I resolved never to drink a drop of human blood, and forget everything my father had ever taught me about what it meant to be a vampire. He had always lectured to me about 'destiny', and about how I was a disgrace to my Dracula heritage. But I didn't listen to him. The night before my sixteenth birthday, Juliana and I eloped."

Vlad was entranced. "What happened?"

The Count shook his head. "It was… disastrous, to say the least. Though I had run away from my obligations, and from the blood mirror, the transformation still pulled at my soul. Every night, in my dreams, while I slept in Ana's arms, my reflection called to me. Some nights, I would awake only to find myself back on the steps of the castle. As if beckoned by destiny."

"You mean… you didn't transform right away?"

The Count cocked his head. "The transformation wasn't completely prevented… I would say it was..." the Count waved a hand; "more, _delayed_. I was without my fangs, but after only a week, I began to smoke in the presence of sunlight. I was forced into the shadows. Juliana did her best to protect me from the suspicions of the nearby villagers. They had started to wonder, you see, as Juliana surely did herself, why I never showed my face during the day.

"But the worst part was definitely the hunger. After a month, even to sleep by Ana's side was agony. I despised myself, for wanting her in that way, but also couldn't bear the thought of leaving her." The Count looked wistful.

"After all that time, I had never told her the real source of my 'illness'. In my arrogance, I had convinced myself I would never need to reveal the truth about what I was. I was determined to avoid the transformation through force of will alone. But underneath it all, was the fear. I was… well, I was afraid that Ana would see me as a monster."

The Count shuddered at the memory. "Meanwhile, my father was accosting and killing villagers by the dozens in the nearby towns, desperate to find me and bring me home. I knew, of course, that my time was running out, and that at any moment my precious Ana could be discovered, and destroyed."

Vlad shook his head, completely mesmerized by the tale. He had never seen this side of his father. "What did you do? In the end?"

The Count laced his fingers together under his chin. "I did what I thought was right. I couldn't hypnotize her, of course—I was in love—but I did the next best thing. I told her I had tired of her, and never wanted to see her face again. And then… I went home."

The Count turned to him, his eyes pleading. "You have to understand. The hunger had become all consuming. The mirror was calling to me every night, and I knew it was just a matter of time before it accomplished its dark purpose. I couldn't allow myself to hurt her."

Vlad looked at his hands, which had clenched into fists at some point during his father's story. "So, you saved her, over your own happiness."

It seemed that he and the Count might be more alike than he'd thought.

"Yes. But what I realized," the Count added, voice passionate, "after meeting with the mirror, and seeing the evil spirit that was to consume me, was that my love for her was the very source of the strength that allowed me to let her go. Never once did I touch a hair on her head, after that. Not one hair," he repeated. "And, I realized something else. My father had been right all along.

His father smiled sadly. "What future could the two of us have had? A vampire and a breather? Lovers? Of course, I could have turned her, but people tend to… change, once they turn. You saw what it did to your cousin." The Count shook his head, expression wistful. "No; I loved her just the way she was."

Vlad nodded. "I understand." And for once, he really, really did. He gazed wonderingly at his father, as if seeing him for the first time. "Why are you telling me this now?" he asked at last, when the silence had grown heavy.

The Count looked torn. "I wanted you to understand… I know how hard it is to have to grow up." He hesitated. "I also know you care… deeply for your breather friend. But starving yourself of human blood is no way to protect him."

Vlad was startled. Did his father really not know about the blood?

After hearing his father bare his soul, Vlad was sorely tempted to tell his father everything. But he could hardly tell him truth about biting Robin without also explaining why Robin hadn't yet joined the ranks of the living dead. And what would the Count make of the amulet?

His father interrupted his thoughts. "I had hoped that if I prevented you from associating with breathers, you'd avoid my fate. But it seems history has a way of repeating." He sighed at the look on Vlad's face. "I won't forbid you from seeing Robin, if that's what you're worried about." He grimaced. "As if it would stop you."

Vlad's lip quirked. "It wouldn't."

"But I will say this. Please, for your own sake, and for his, consider giving up your moratorium on blood. If breathers and vampires are like oil and water, then cravings and breathers are oil and fire. If you… care for him, you'll tend to your own needs first. Before you end up doing something you regret."

For possibly the first time in his life, Vlad found himself genuinely moved by his father's plea. "Thank you," he said, looking his father in the eye. "Actually, I think I may have found a way around that particular problem."

The Count groaned. "Not this vegetarian business again…."

"No, it's not that," Vlad countered. Inspiration struck. "I was going to say, I've… I've changed my mind. I tried the soya blood, and it was no good, after all. I've been stealing from your private stores." He looked at his lap, hoping his father would buy it. "I didn't want you to find out. I'm sorry."

"Vlad," the Count grabbed his shoulder. "Are you telling me you… want to drink human blood?"

Vlad nodded, doing his best to ignore the stab of guilt at his father's look of adoration. "But I'm not ready to go hunting, yet," he added quickly. "I don't want to kill anyone."

The Count clapped his hands. "Never mind that! This calls for a celebration!"

"No!" Vlad pulled at his father's cape. "Please, don't. I'm still… working through how I feel about all of this. I don't want to draw attention to myself. Please understand?"

The Count pouted. "But, Vladdy…."

"Promise you won't tell anyone? Especially Ingrid."

The Count shuddered. "Of course not, that would require talking to her."

Vlad felt some of his guilt lesson at his father's pig-headedness. "Dad. Let me do this on my own schedule." The Count seemed close to giving in, so he ramped up the charm. "Aren't you pleased I'm drinking blood at all? And human blood, at that."

The Count nodded. "Yes, that much is obviously an improvement." He frowned. "Although, as long as you're taking the moral high ground, don't you think it's a bit hypocritical to drink blood you're not willing to kill for yourself?" He leaned in, shooting Vlad an evil grin. "I can personally assure you, the blood in those stores didn't come from _willing_ victims."

Damn. His father actually had a point, for once. And how ironic, that Vlad's only 'victim' so far had been all-too willing, and that _that_ of all things was the very source of his problem!

But what to tell his father? He grimaced at the Count. "I know, but I just can't stomach the idea of hurting innocent people. I think it'll be easier, at least at first, if… I don't have to think about it." He shuddered. There—that sounded much more like himself.

His answer seemed to placate the Count.

"Well," he said, standing. "The night is still young. If you won't let me spread the good news, surely you'll allow me to propose a toast, just between the two of us?"

Vlad wilted. There was no way he'd be able to get out of this one. He plastered a smile across his face. "Um, just you and me? Sure, I guess…."

The Count cheered. "Excellent! Stay right here, I'll go fetch a bottle of my finest 18th century composer—oh, but should it be German or Italian? Renfield!"

The Count skipped from the room, muttering gleefully under his breath. Vlad hid his head in his hands.

Of course, there was nothing he wanted _less_ than to toast his father with 18th century anyone. He swore. How did he get himself into these situations? He didn't want blood from a bottle. And he didn't care how fancy it was—all he really wanted was Robin's.

Preferably, fresh from the source.

He sighed. Perhaps he should tell his father the truth? Still, even Chloe didn't know what that amulet was capable of. In the wrong hands, it might wreak unimaginable havoc and destruction. And as much as Vlad hated being a vampire, he knew he couldn't risk hurting his family due to mere moral discomfort over lying to his father.

* * *

The Count returned with two glasses and a tall, dusty brown bottle, whistling to himself. He popped the cork, using the casket they'd been sitting on as a table as he poured the thick dark liquid into the glasses, smiling wickedly at Vlad all the while.

"Finally," his father announced with a conspiratorial wink as he finished, "my son has accepted his destiny as a Dracula."

The Count handed one of the glasses to Vlad, taking the other for himself. Vlad swirled the glass's contents, trying his best to look eager at the prospect of drinking it.

Sure, it smelled appetizing enough. And though a year ago he would have gagged at the sight, now his mouth even watered in anticipation.

Still. Robin's smelled better.

He shot a tight-lipped smile at his father, who was beaming at him expectantly. Vlad cleared his throat, raising his glass. "To… what are we toasting, exactly?"

The Count shook his head in amusement. "My dear boy, we're toasting your future as a vampire, of course." He raised his own glass. "To Vladimir Dracula, my son and heir; may he grow into a powerful, fully-realized member of vampire society, and finally accept his true nature as the Prince of Darkness!"

Vlad grimaced. "Do you always have to call it that?" But his father ignored him. They clinked their glasses, the Count downing half his cup in one gulp.

Vlad brought the rim of the glass to his lips, and took a cautious sip. He smacked his lips at the taste. It was pretty good. Not fantastic, but good. Drinkable.

The Count sighed. "Well, what do you think? Leaps and bounds better than sheep's blood, in any case."

Vlad shrugged, momentarily tongue-tied. "I—well, it's pretty good," he amended, when the Count pulled a face. Vlad sighed. "I'm sorry, it's just…. I think I need some time to think about what you've told me."

The Count bowed his head, expression growing more serious. "Of course. Take all the time you need—I hope I've given you some good food for thought." He pointed a finger at his son. "Remember. If you really care about that breather friend of yours, you'll consider what I've said."

Vlad nodded tightly. It was strangely similar to what Ingrid had told him. "Thank you, again—you know, for telling me about when you were younger. That must have brought up some difficult memories."

The Count waved him off. "I'd always meant to tell you, once you were old enough to understand." He patted Vlad's shoulder fondly. "I'm proud of you, you know. And I know you'll make the right decision in the end. After all, you are a Dracula."


	14. Sleepless Nights

Robin found Chloe lying in bed, propped up on her elbows, her face silhouetted by the ghostly blue light of her laptop. She must not have heard him knock over the sound of the rain.

He cleared his throat, and Chloe jumped. "I couldn't sleep either."

Chloe exhaled slowly. "Robin, it's gone 3 o'clock. What are you doing awake?"

Robin shifted, leaning heavily on the doorframe. "I could ask you the same question."

In response, Chloe closed her laptop, sitting up and patting the space beside her. "Come in and close the door, will you?" she whispered. "No need to wake the whole house."

Robin sat cross-legged at the foot of the bed. "What are you working on? I hate to stand in the way of genius…."

"It's fine." Chloe twisted round to face him. "Look—I know you're worried about Vlad, but I'm still not entirely sure what to do about the amulet. In the meantime, you need to play it safe. Promise me you won't see Vlad until we figure something out?"

Robin fidgeted.

Chloe grabbed him by his collar. "I won't have you risking your life again. I don't care how in love with him you are, it isn't worth your eternal soul."

Robin pulled away, rubbing the back of his neck where the shirt had cut into his skin. "What soul?" he complained testily. "And for the last time, I'm _not_ in love with him. Give it a rest, already."

Chloe tutted. "You're fooling yourselves. Both of you. Can't you see he's mad about you?"

Robin grabbed a pillow and threw it at her, annoyed when Chloe caught it effortlessly. "We both know _you're_ the one who's hot for him," Robin countered, irritated.

Chloe laughed out loud. "What we have here is a classic case of projection."

"Spare me the psychoanalysis. And _yes_ , I know what that word means." Robin crossed his arms. "I should go back to bed."

Chloe sobered at his expression. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to push. What did you really want to talk about?"

Robin sighed, leaning back against the footboard. "Every time I close my eyes, all I see is Vlad jumping into the sunlight, or onto a pile of stakes." He groaned. "I know he didn't end up going through with it, but—how could he even _consider_ killing himself?"

"It was pretty selfish of him," Chloe agreed solemnly.

"Thing is, he was only doing it in the first place because he thought it would protect me. If anything, I wish he would be a little _more_ selfish, sometimes." He chuckled, the sound hollow. "You know, more like me." Chloe just stared at him sadly.

Robin ran his fingers through his hair. "He's such an idiot. I just wish I could be there to stop him every time he gets that stupid, self-sacrificial _shit_ in his head. But I can't be there twenty-four seven."

Chloe snorted. "Welcome to my world."

Robin shot her a sheepish grin. "Sorry. I know you worry, too."

"It's all part of being related to you—it comes with the package." They traded grins; a comfortable silence fell between them.

"Is there anything I can do to help with the amulet?" Robin asked, eventually.

Chloe bit her lip, considering. "Actually, yes. There is."

Robin started. "Wait; really?"

Chloe leaned over her bed, ducking under and grabbing the heavy tome of metallurgic rituals. "I've narrowed the possibilities down to three. They aren't the best, which is why I didn't want to say anything…."

Robin crawled closer. "What are they? I'll do anything."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves." It was difficult, but somehow she managed not to comment on her brother's transparent adoration for the vampire. "At first I thought maybe a ring, but that's not much of an improvement because it can be taken off. So…" She flipped through the book, index finger landing on a dog-eared page. "Number one, we can perform a complicated spell and have the magic of the stone imprinted permanently on your skin."

"What, like a tattoo?"

Chloe winced. "Sort of? But that option isn't my favorite, because there's only one source I could find to suggest it would even work. Plus, it relies on Vlad's magic being more… how should I put it?"

"Reliable?"

Chloe nodded. "He's still a new vampire, you know? He doesn't know what he's doing, yet. Maybe in a year, or two…" she shook her head. "The other two methods don't depend on Vlad directly, but they're more risky."

Robin raised an eyebrow. "Risky how?"

"Well, the second option involves invoking an ancient blood rite." For some reason, Chloe's cheeks were pink as she said it, and she stumbled slightly over the words. "And the third would require invasive surgery."

Robin shrugged. "Okay, what's the blood rite, then?"

"The… Well, we'll get to that in a minute. But one upside for the surgery idea is that the amulet has inherent healing powers, so there would very likely not be any complications. At least, biologically speaking. It would involve inserting the stone of the amulet beneath your skin, so the amulet should heal all outward signs of entry."

"Wicked." Robin grinned.

Chloe rolled her eyes. "Figures you'd get excited about that. But the problem with that plan is we don't know whether your body would reject the stone."

"Right—so what's wrong with option number two, again?"

"Nothing's _wrong_ with it. I personally prefer it, in fact." Chloe hedged, looking uncomfortable. "I just don't think you're going to like it."

"Go on, then, out with it."

"There's a way of fighting the addiction at its source." Chloe didn't meet his eyes. "If your blood is ordained in a church, Vlad won't be able to drink it anymore. It will be like poison to him."

Robin's heart skipped a beat. "Chloe, I'm his only humane source of blood. If he doesn't feed from me there's always the danger he'll feed from someone else. He'd never forgive himself for that."

Chloe looked close to tears. She put a gentle hand on Robin's arm. "I'm aware of that. But _you'd_ be safe, Robin. Vlad would never be able to turn you, accidentally or otherwise. No vampire would."

Her brother's arm was tense below her palm. "I don't want Vlad to find out about the blood rite."

Chloe bit her lip. "I know," she admitted. "How long do you plan on feeding him?" she asked, although she suspected she already knew the answer.

"As long as it takes," Robin said, his words measured and intense. "I'll happily donate my blood forever if it means sparing him from a life he hates."

"It's not a long term solution, Robin. What about when you grow old and die? Eventually, he's going to need to drink someone else's blood."

Robin clutched his knees. "I know that, okay? I'll think of something." He flashed a glare in her direction. "But don't tell him. He'll just try to hypnotize me again."

"Again?" Chloe asked, taken aback.

Robin nodded, seemingly bothered by the memory. "Earlier, when I was rescuing him from the castle, his eyes turned all yellow. He told me to leave, but it didn't work—I'm just glad I was wearing the amulet."

One of the trees outside Chloe's bedroom window rustled. A branch snapped.

Chloe looked at her brother for a long time. "I promise I won't tell him," she agreed, finally. "But _you_ have to promise me that you won't do anything rash. We're in this together, now. I won't see you getting hurt out of well meaning…" she seemed to cut herself off. "Foolishness."

Robin nodded. "I promise."

They shook on it, and Chloe looked at her watch. "You can probably still get in another hour or two of sleep, if you try."

"It's not going to happen at this point. Can we go visit Vlad tomorrow evening? I promise I won't go alone, but I want to see him and tell him about what you found."

Chloe nodded. "Fine. I'm going to try to get some sleep, then. Talk to you later."

Robin got up and stretched, stifling a yawn. "Good luck."

* * *

As the door clicked shut, signaling that Chloe was alone, she put her head in her hands. _Pull yourself together_. _You've got company._

She smiled sadly at the window. "You can come in," she called out softly.

The window opened, and Vlad's rain-soaked form landed silently on the sill. He looked appropriately shame-faced. "You knew I was here?"

Chloe sighed. "I heard you rustling about in the tree. I may be human but I'm not hard of hearing."

Vlad wiped some droplets off of his face. "Thanks for not saying anything to Robin."

"How much did you hear?"

Vlad face was an ashen grey. He rubbed his neck. "Everything, I'm afraid."

"Good." Standing to grab a towel off her chair, Chloe motioned for Vlad to step into the room and handed it to him. "I know you're in love with him."

Vlad, if possible, got even paler. "How…"

She rubbed at her temple. "Your hypnosis failed. Obviously. And," she continued, holding up a hand, "Now you know about the blood rite." Chloe leveled him with serious look. "Question is, what are you going to do about it?"

"All I know is that I want Robin to be happy. And… I want him to stay in my life."

"I'm proud of you for finally admitting it." Chloe smiled, hugging him over his towel.

Vlad returned the gesture with an intensity that surprised her. They stayed like that for a little while, Chloe patting his back awkwardly every now and then.

"I don't know what to tell him," Vlad whispered, finally. "I don't want him to hate me if he finds out."

Chloe wanted to say— _trust me, there's no way he could ever hate you—_ but before she could get the words out, Vlad's body had gone rigid under her arm. She glanced at his face with concern. He was staring at a space over her shoulder.

Robin stood glaring at them from the doorway. "Oh, I'm sorry, am I interrupting something?"

Vlad released Chloe immediately. "Robin, it's not what you think, I _swear_."

Robin steadfastly refused to meet his gaze. "It's fine. I'm very happy for the both of you. Just try to keep it down; you _don't_ want to wake the twins."

With that, he stiffly turned, closing the door behind him.

Chloe hit Vlad on the shoulder. "Go get him. Idiot."

Vlad nodded, but before he could leave Chloe grabbed his shirt. "The only reason I'm trusting you to go in there right now is because I know you love him. But if you hurt him, I will end your very existence." She removed the stone from her pocket, and put it in his hand. "Make sure he's holding this at _all times_. You hear me?"

Vlad folded his fingers around the gem, eyes wide. "Yes, sir." And with that, he was gone.

Chloe sat on her bed, willing her hands to stop shaking. _He's going to be fine. Vlad would literally kill himself before daring to hurt a hair on his head._

Still, she hoped she'd done the right thing.


	15. The Confession

The handle on his door squeaked as it turned, and Robin rolled deeper under his blankets, pulling them over his head. "Go away, Chloe."

"It's Vlad."

Robin groaned. Shit. He felt a heavy weight disturb the blankets by his feet.

"If you want to be with my sister, I won't get in your way. She's old enough to decide for herself what she wants."

The weight at his feet snorted. "Aren't you supposed to give me some speech about protecting your younger sister's innocence?"

Under the blanket, Robin groaned. "I have my limits, and talking about my sister's innocence is definitely one of them. You should watch your mouth."

"That's tough talk, coming from a cocoon."

Before Robin could formulate an appropriately scathing response, the blanket covering his scowl was snatched away. He could just barely make out his friend's silhouette in the dark. "Vlad…. It's too early for this shit."

"Just, hear me out?"

Robin sat up stiffly, scooting back and crossing his arms. "Fine. You have five minutes."

"I'm not interested in Chloe. Not even a little bit." The declaration hung heavy in the air.

Robin stared at the sheets between them, and shrugged. "So, what you were doing clutching my sister to your rain-soaked body at 3:30 in the morning, then?"

Vlad choked. "It wasn't like that. I wanted to ask about her progress with the amulet, but then I overheard the two of you talking… so I waited outside the window." He waved his hands. "I was going to leave, I swear, but then I heard my name, and… well."

Robin stiffened, looking at the wall. Carefully not meeting his friend's gaze. "You heard everything, didn't you?" Silence. "I'm not about to be 'blessed' by some damned minister, okay? I'm pretty sure I'm allergic."

Vlad was silent for a moment, then reached for his hand. "Look at me."

Robin's jaw set, and he stared resolutely at the bedspread. "No, Vlad."

"I just want to give you something." _Bollocks._

Robin reluctantly met his eyes, blinking back angry tears. So, this was how it was going to end. _Say good-bye to your free will, Branaugh._

But before he could say anything else, the other boy had flipped Robin's hand palm-up, and placed something small and hard in the center of it.

Robin stared at the gem in disbelief. Vlad cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry for trying to hypnotize you, earlier. I promise it won't happen again."

Robin's brow furrowed. "You could have just now. Why didn't you?"

"Actually…" Vlad looked embarrassed. He fidgeted. "I couldn't have. Even without the amulet."

Robin squinted at him in the dark. "What, are your powers giving you trouble all of a sudden?"

"No, they work just fine. Just… not on you," he hedged, looking uncomfortable. "It's a vampire thing."

Robin straightened in his seat. "Right, and I wouldn't know the first thing about that. Out with it. Why don't your powers work on me, Vlad?"

Vlad sucked in a deep breath. "I… can't tell you."

Robin threw his hands in the air. "Then why'd you effing bring it up?"

Vlad was quiet for nearly a minute. Robin nearly interrupted him three separate times, but somehow managed to stay silent.

Eventually, his friend took a deep, bracing breath. "Fine. You deserve to know. But remember, you asked for it. And…" He swallowed audibly. "Well, just try not to hate me, okay?"

* * *

The hairs at the back of Robin's neck stood on end. Unbidden, Vlad's words to Chloe from earlier floated through his mind. _I don't want him to hate me if he finds out_. He shook his head. "Christ, Vlad. Of course I won't hate you."

"Just… close your eyes. And no peeking."

"What? Why?"

"Please, just do it."

Robin obeyed with a sigh. "Is this the moment I finally learn that vampires sparkle in the sunlight?"

Vlad apparently didn't think that worth dignifying with a response. Knowing him, he probably just didn't get the reference. Robin stewed in the quiet, practically vibrating in his impatience. What was taking him so long?

Ages later, the bed shifted by his feet, and Robin felt rather than heard Vlad's sudden proximity.

"What…"

But before he could even begin to articulate his question, soft lips captured his own, and the words died in his throat.

Vlad's mouth was eerily cool to the touch; and once his lips began to move, brushing against the chapped skin of Robin's lower lip with tremendous tenderness, the realization hit him like a ton of bricks. _VLAD FANCIES ME._

"…Say something?"

For some reason, the other boy's voice was strangely small, as if coming from far away.

Robin blinked rapidly, waiting for his eyes to refocus. Eventually, he spotted Vlad's dark silhouette against the window. At some point, the rain had stopped, and the clouds had parted to reveal a full moon.

"…Can forgive me. I understand if you hate me, now; I just, wanted you to know before you made any life altering decisions. In case… this made you reconsider."

The words didn't make any sense. Robin touched his lips, which were all weird and tingly. "I…."

"Do…" Vlad stood motionless, his expression unreadable in the dark. "Do you want me to leave?"

Did he? Robin's mouth opened and closed several times.

Vlad's head turned toward window. Most of his face was still shrouded in shadow; there was just enough moonlight for Robin to catch the brief look of longing that flashed across his face.

Robin swallowed heavily, covering his face. "I just need to think."

"I understand." Vlad's voice sounded strangely flat. "I'll just go, then."

"No, don't—please stay." Silence. "Vlad?"

When he looked up, he was alone. "I don't hate you," Robin whispered to the air. But the words had come too late.

Vlad was gone.

* * *

Robin couldn't sleep.

Every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was Vlad's pale, disappointed face, framed by moonlight.

 _Damn it all to hell._

He should have said something else. Anything would have been better than _I just need to think_.

Robin rolled over, sending his blankets to the floor with an undignified _plop_. What would he have said?

His mind reeled with a million questions. How long had it been like this? Had it been obvious to _everyone_ except him?

A small voice inside him sneered. _You've seen the way he looks at you when he thinks that you don't see._

Eying the alarm clock by his bed-stand, Robin cringed. It had only been about twenty minutes since Vlad had left, though it felt more like forty. His eyes stung—they were probably bloodshot to hell.

At this rate, he'd never get to sleep.

He rolled over again, hugging his arms and staring out the window. _Don't think about Vlad._


	16. A Complete and Total Disaster

_Cold lips worried at the hollow behind Robin's ear, raining icy kisses along his jaw and throat before tracing small, wet circles down the column of his neck._

 _Robin shuddered, his fingers curling in his bed-sheets for support._

" _What a pretty picture you make," the dark figure whispered, teeth glinting in the moonlight, as he smiled against Robin skin. "You're mine."_

" _Yes." Robin's pants tightened at the vampire's words, and he moaned, tilting his head to give him better access to his throat. "Yours."_

 _The vampire mouthed at his pulse point, before sinking sharp fangs into the tender flesh of his jugular. Robin hissed. The pain was both more and less than he remembered, though soon he could think of nothing beyond his own intense need to be devoured—to be claimed._

 _He gasped as the creature sucked, the sound wet and positively indecent._

" _Please, Vlad" Robin whined, grabbing the vampire's hand and bringing it to his erection. "I need…."_

* * *

Robin lurched forward in his chair at the sound of the school bell, his forehead nearly hitting the desk. He blinked, bleary-eyed, and, when he realized where he was, bit back an exasperated groan.

It was the third time he'd fallen asleep in class that morning. And, for the third time, he'd awoken from an oddly intense dream. So far, each had left Robin shaking; not only because of how real they felt, but also for the reaction they invariably left him upon waking.

Robin regarded his neighbors self-consciously, hoping that the desk obscured the worst of the evidence. He caught a few students looking his way, but none seemed to have noticed anything amiss.

Students had already begun filing out of the classroom. That would be lunch.

Robin stood, gathering his things, and suppressed a violent yawn. With any luck, having a bite to eat would help him feel vaguely human again.

He glanced at the desk two aisles over.

Christ. Jonno was staring at him again. Robin lifted his bag, half walking, half running from the classroom.

His escape was unsuccessful. Jonno managed to corner him outside the men's lavatory.

"Branaugh. Slept well, I trust?"

Robin blinked tiredly. "No." Sidestepping the other boy easily, he made his way down the hall amidst a sea of similarly brain-dead students.

A hand landed on his shoulder. Robin turned, scowling. "What's your problem?" he demanded.

Jonno leaned in. "Haven't seen Vlad around lately. Is he sick? Just in time for his birthday?"

Robin rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Weirdo." He kept walking.

"Who're you calling weird, weirdo number 2?" Jonno called out to him, but Robin ignored him in favor of making a beeline for the lunch hall. He simply didn't have the energy to deal with slayer-spawn's idiotic insults this morning.

He paused in front of his locker. The coast was clear; Van Helsing had evidently given up. He rubbed his forehead. Things at school were all starting to look disturbingly familiar: just like in the days before the Draculas had come to Stokely.

It wasn't just the teasing. Ever since Vlad had stopped coming to school a week and a half ago, everything about his classes had just felt… pointless.

He'd considered dropping out, but his parents would never sign the paperwork. And Chloe and Vlad would box his ears for even thinking it.

He breathed deeply through his nose. _Don't think about Vlad._

Next period was Painting, which was probably the only class, other than his first year Drawing class, that he'd ever enjoyed at this god-forsaken school. After that was Trigonometry, and then by god, he just had to make it through Biology and he'd be golden.

* * *

"Hey, Chloe."

Chloe glanced over her shoulder. "Oh, hi, Jonno. Ready for class?" She waited patiently until he'd caught up, then walked with him in the direction of Classroom 3B.

"Yeah. We've been paired up for History. Is that okay with you?"

Chloe bit her lip. She supposed she couldn't complain, seeing as she'd left before partners could be declared. In all of the fuss over the amulet, she'd completely forgotten to check who she had ended up with. "Sure, why not?"

"Excellent!" Jonno beamed. "D'you want to meet up after school to plan our outline?"

Chloe hesitated. What she _wanted_ was to check in on Vlad, so they could discuss the pros and cons of magic-assisted surgery; and, more importantly, so she could demand to know why Robin was being even surlier than he normally was.

She sighed. After the events of last night, she'd hoped the boys might finally relieve some of that damned obvious sexual tension; or at the very least have a much-needed heart-to-heart about their feelings for each other. But, alas, whatever _had_ happened between them couldn't have been good.

Still... Vlad would be asleep until evening anyway. She supposed there wasn't any harm in it. Plus, having Jonno over would allow her to keep an eye on him. She might even learn something about the Van Helsings' latest scheme for infiltrating the castle. With those two, there was _always_ a scheme.

"All right," she said finally, smiling up at her new history partner. "Let's meet out front at two, shall we? My mum's picking me and Robin up from school, so if you don't mind the company we can catch a ride back to my house together."

Chloe half expected him to decline the offer. She knew Jonno and Robin didn't get along.

But if the notion of spending extra time with her brother bothered him, it didn't show. Jonno nodded. "That'd work. Thanks!"

They arrived at the classroom. "After you," he said, gesturing to the door.

Chloe hoped her irritation wasn't too obvious. She hated when men did that.

* * *

Vlad stared at the carnage that used to be his room; a casualty of last night's complete and total disaster.

All of the papers that used to litter his desk were currently sitting in piles of ash, along with a majority of his clothes, his old schoolbooks—anything in his room that even vaguely smelled like Robin had had to go. Which was most of it.

He had kept one souvenir—a single photograph of Robin and himself, taken when they were 14. In the picture, Robin was scowling, wearing a fishing cap, as Vlad beamed at his side, an arm flung over his shoulder. A rare moment of happiness in Vlad's otherwise bleak, blood-and-guts filled childhood. He smiled at the memory.

Vlad had, of course, tried _not_ being totally, utterly devastated by Robin's reaction to his confession; but then again, he had also, obviously, failed. Miserably.

Now that he had had a few hours to himself, to clear his head—along with most of his worldly possessions—he could see that perhaps he had been overreacting. A bit.

After all, Robin hadn't been mean. He hadn't been disgusted with Vlad in the slightest. Vlad had been expecting him to shout, or curse, or maybe even call him filthy names. But he had done none of those things.

In fact, as far as Vlad could tell, Robin hadn't felt much of anything at all.

And that, Vlad had decided at some point during his slow, rainy walk back up to the castle, was in a way much worse than outright rejection. He was used to _that_ sort of reaction from people. He knew how to handle disappointment; knew just what to do when met with violence and rage.

But did Robin have to just sit there? Vlad had kissed him, shown him just one _hint_ of what he really felt for him—and even that brief contact with Robin's lips had been glorious—but Robin had done nothing but sit there in shock.

Vlad growled, tossing the picture over the side of his coffin. He wished he could just hypnotize himself asleep. He could use a bloody break. He _deserved_ an escape from this emotional purgatory.

A half hour passed. The minutes crawled by.

He lay motionless for another hour, stewing in self-loathing. He refused to move, say, or do anything until he fell asleep. His brain could go screw itself. Lot of good it had done for him, lately.

Around noon, Vlad's eyelids finally began to flutter. By half past, he sank gratefully into darkness.

* * *

"What took you so long? I've been waiting for ages," Robin hissed, spotting Chloe as she turned the corner. Jonno was with her as well. Robin's eyes narrowed. "And what are you doing with _him_?"

"Be nice," Chloe admonished. Jonno looked unfazed. "We're partners for History. He's coming home with us today."

Robin's glare never wavered. "Fine," he grumbled. "Mum's idling."

The three of them headed to the car, Robin trailing behind the others while scuffing his feet.

He felt like he was going to be sick.

All through the car ride, Robin couldn't shake the one fear that had been plaguing him all day, though he'd tried desperately to block it out.

What if Vlad never talked to him again? What if this was it, the end?

He squeezed the bridge of his nose, guilt roiling in his stomach. Leave it to him to alienate the only friend he'd ever made, not to mention potentially putting an already at-risk, suicidal vampire closer to the edge.

"Robin, do you mind?" Chloe scowled as they pulled onto their street. "That dark cloud over your head is fogging up the glass. We're trying to have a productive conversation in here."

Robin scowled. He glared briefly at Jonno before turning back to stare out the side-door window.

What if Vlad tried to off himself again?

He badly wanted to talk to Chloe about all of this, but she was thoroughly distracted by talk of… whatever it was they were talking about.

Trust Van Helsing to ruin everything. As usual.

* * *

The second they were all inside, Robin charged up the stairs, leaving Chloe and Jonno in the dust. Mrs. Branaugh offered the two of them tea, which they politely accepted.

They chatted for a while about their outline, munching on some biscuits, Jonno stopping every now and then to make notes. Chloe had offered, but Jonno insisted. "I'm sure you always get roped into doing it," he'd said, by way of explanation. Privately, Chloe had to agree, and she'd been pleasantly surprised that Jonno would ever consider something like that. She was lucky to have gotten such a considerate partner this time around.

After working on vampire-related problems for several days straight, Chloe was craving a dose of normal, everyday nerdiness. Truthfully, she was excited for this project. Medieval history had always fascinated her, and from what she could gather, Jonno seemed to actually be somewhat interested in the topic as well.

"So… did you want to use your computer, or mine?" Jonno asked, pulling the page of scribbles out of his notebook and smoothing it on the table.

"Oh, mine," Chloe said dismissively, taking the outline and scanning it. "My laptop's in my bag. Do you mind?"

Jonno nodded. Chloe's brow furrowed as she reviewed their progress. "I'm not sure what we should do for the last part," she said eventually. "If we split up the research, I think we could each spend some time going over the various aspects of religious ceremonies, since there's so much to talk about. Or, since we haven't discussed music yet, you could cover religion and I could look more into the history of madrigals?"

She shot him a questioning look.

But Jonno was staring at her laptop with a bemused expression. "Started work already, did you? I always knew you were an over-achiever, but still."

"What?" Chloe glanced over his shoulder to take a look at the screen. Her eyes widened. "Haha, oh, that…." She had forgotten to close out of the tab detailing metallurgical binding practices from the 1200s. Jonno didn't seem to notice anything amiss—such as the frequent mentions of magic throughout the article—so Chloe did her best to stay calm as she reached over him to close out of the tab.

But the next page was even worse. Right in the center of the screen was a picture of the amulet. "The Amulet of Ec…?" Jonno read, struggling.

"It was a gift idea for my mum," Chloe said, thinking quickly. "Although I'm not sure I'm going to get it after all; it's a bit hideous, don't you think?" She glanced at Jonno out of the corner of her eye, and went to close out of the tab when he stopped her.

"Hang on—that's weird."

"What?"

"It's just…" Jonno hesitated, before shaking his head. "Nah, it couldn't be. Never mind."

"Can I close out of this, then?" Chloe schooled her features into a neutral expression.

"Yeah." He laughed easily. "I'm not sure why, but that necklace looks oddly familiar. Where would I have seen something like that?" Chloe nodded, hoping she didn't look as nervous as she felt.

 _Probably in one of your father's books on slaying lore_ , she thought. It was entirely possible that Jonno _had_ seen it, perhaps in a painting somewhere, or an illustration.

She closed out of the tab and, much to her relief, Jonno seemed content to change the subject.

As they returned to their work, Chloe berated herself for having left incriminating information open on her computer where anyone could see. If the Van Helsings caught wind that they had been searching for the amulet…. It would spell certain disaster for the Draculas, to say the least, if not all of vampire kind.

* * *

Up in his room, Robin was busy hitting his head against the wall, repeatedly.

Sunset wouldn't be for a few more hours, so he still had time to think. Provided Vlad actually stayed put.

What was he going to say to him?

There were a couple of problems. First, there was the fact that whatever he did, Robin had to convince Vlad to continue drinking his blood. There was no way Robin was going to have his soul 'anointed' by some priest, leaving Vlad to suffer with his addiction alone, and potentially go crazy from the desperation.

They hadn't discussed it, but, really, none of them had any idea what would even happen if, for example, Robin suddenly died and his blood were no longer available. Would Vlad's addiction end? Probably not.

In all likelihood, Vlad would have immense difficulty switching to soya substitute or even animal blood. And that meant he would pose a constant risk to the humans around him. Robin knew Vlad—if it came to that, he would probably either lock himself up in the castle forever, slowly wasting away, or….

Robin hit the wall with his forehead. Whenever he thought about Vlad choosing suicide, his gut wrenched horribly and he felt dizzy. He wasn't going to let that happen, so long as he was still able to do something about it.

Then… there was the other problem.

Robin squeezed his eyes shut. If he concentrated, he could just barely make out the sounds of conversation coming from the floor below. He chewed on his lip, allowing his mind to drift into dangerous territory.

Trouble was, he had never thought of himself as gay. He had always had crushes on girls, always fantasized about girls; he'd pictured himself one day marrying a woman, perhaps once he finally moved the hell out of Stokely, as he'd always planned to do one day.

But then why had Vlad's kiss felt like waking up?


	17. Waking Up, Part 2

Vlad stirred, sensitive hearing alerting him to a frantic knocking outside the castle. His ears perked.

He sped downstairs, stopping at a safe distance from the door and the last smoldering rays of the setting sun. He spotted Renfield, who had come to answer the door, and shook his head slowly, mouthing _I'm not here._

His manservant didn't seem to get the message, however, and then it was too late: Robin had already pushed his way into the entrance hall.

"Hi." Robin looked roughly the way Vlad felt, sporting dark circles under his eyes and a wrinkled black shirt.

"Hi," Vlad echoed. "Um… so how was school?" Small talk was not his forte, and it showed.

Robin snorted. "We need to talk. Do you think we could go up to your room?"

Vlad winced, thinking of the mess upstairs. He didn't want Robin to know how much his rejection had affected him. "I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"I just want to talk." The other boy licked his lips. "Last night, I should have been more clear."

"You don't need to explain yourself." Vlad looked anywhere but at Robin. "I get it, you're not interested."

"No, you don't get it." Robin sounded frustrated. "Please… I won't take too much of your time, I promise."

Vlad weighed his options. What were the chances of Robin letting this go and never bringing it up again, ever?

His shoulders sagged. "After you."

* * *

"What happened in here?" Robin asked, glancing around the room in shock.

Vlad wished he could disappear into the woodwork. Unfortunately, that didn't seem to be included in his suite of new powers. "Nothing worth mentioning."

Robin was wringing his hands. Vlad sighed. The sooner they could get this conversation over with, the sooner he could go back to wallowing in misery in peace. "You wanted to talk. So talk."

"I'm sorry, it's just…." Robin let his breath out in a rush. He took a small step forward.

Vlad wanted to look away, but found he couldn't. Robin had such beautiful eyes.

"I should have said this last night, but… I don't hate you. In fact, I think I…." He cleared his throat, taking another step forward. "I care about you, Vlad." He smiled. "So much it scares me, sometimes."

The vampire backed away, shaking his head dumbly. Robin kept walking toward him slowly until Vlad could go no further, his back pressed flush against the wall. He held up his hands in defense, his eyes wide.

"You don't have to do this," Vlad stammered.

"I don't have to," Robin said softly. "But I want to." The teen used his superior height to his advantage, bending down before Vlad could utter another word and capturing the vampire's lips in a searing hot kiss.

Vlad saw stars. He reached for Robin's jacket, clutching the fabric for dear life as his knees threatened to buckle out from under him.

The lights flickered as a strange breeze rose up between them. Vlad's chessboard—one of the few items to survive his rampage from that afternoon—toppled over, spilling glass pieces all over the desk. The chairs rattled on the floor, and Simon let out a loud yowl as a picture frame landed near him and shattered.

Robin broke away first, breathing hard. His lips were flushed.

Vlad swallowed. "Robin; is this really what you want? You're not just doing it because it's what I want, or—?"

Robin looked like he couldn't decide whether to snog him again or throttle him—possibly, both. "What do you want, a contract signed in blood?" He grabbed Vlad's face, silencing him in the best way possible.

Vlad did his best not to swoon.

* * *

Chloe sighed. They'd made good progress. "Hey, Jonno—I think I'm ready to call it a night," she said, stifling a yawn.

Jonno nodded. "All right. Do you think one of your parents would be willing to give me a ride back to my place?"

"It can't hurt to ask. Mum's reading in the living room, you could ask her."

"Thanks." Jonno stood and stretched. "Oh, actually, could you point me in the direction of the toilet, first?"

Chloe pointed up the stairs. "First room on the right," she said. "You can't miss it."

Jonno smiled thankfully, turning up the stairs.

Chloe watched him go with narrowed eyes. She knew full well that just below Jonno's agreeable exterior there lay a dangerous slayer-in-training.

She waited about a minute before heading up the stairs herself. She needed to make sure Jonno wasn't poking his nose where it didn't belong.

The door to the toilet was closed, and the fan and light were on. She blushed. What was she doing, stalking her classmate like a weirdo?

She headed to her room, shaking her head, and turned the light on—nothing seemed amiss. Of course it didn't, she chastised herself. Then, she spotted the chair next to her dresser, and froze, the hair on the back of her neck rising.

The amulet!

She'd hung the chain around the back of the chair that morning, after refitting the gem. She was sure of it.

Jonno must have snuck in and taken it before heading to the loo.

 _What a wretched little thief!_

Chloe thudded downstairs, and waited impatiently for Jonno to emerge. She couldn't ask him about it directly—he'd know she was onto him. Still, she needed to confirm that it had really been him.

"Hey, I'll go ask your mum for that ride, now, if that's all right," Jonno said with a smile. Chloe smiled back, subtly looking him over for signs of a stashed necklace, although she didn't spot anything out of the ordinary.

"Of course," she said, staring after him as he entered the living room. There might have been something stashed in his trousers, but it was difficult to tell.

If he did have it, they were in huge trouble. And it was her fault.


	18. Immortality?

Warm hands roamed over the fabric of Vlad's shirt. Vlad shivered, tangling his fingers deeper into Robin's hair.

Robin kissed his way up the stretch of Vlad's neck to his ear, whispering, "There's nothing stopping you, you know. I'm wearing the amulet."

Vlad's fangs descended at the thought. He shook his head. "I'm fine." He shot the other boy a suspicious look. "You get off on this whole vampire thing. Admit it."

"Okay, I admit it," Robin said cheekily. "What are you going to do about it?"

The vampire flipped their positions, pressing Robin against the wall. By way of answer, he kissed his Adam's apple, trailing down toward his collarbone. "I can't believe Chloe let you have the amulet," he muttered, before latching onto his favorite spot on Robin's neck.

Robin sucked in a breath, eyes closing. "Who said… _ungh_ … anything about 'let'…?"

Vlad pulled away, giving him a disbelieving look.

"No, don't stop," Robin whimpered.

"She's gonna kill you when she finds out."

Robin pulled Vlad back to him by his collar. "Talk later," he mumbled, leaning his head to one side in invitation, and Vlad was all too happy to oblige.

He kissed Robin's jaw, and the taller teen wrapped his arms around him.

They both jumped as a very loud, very insistent knock sounded at the door. Vlad bared his fangs. "God, not again," he groaned. "Let's burn the damned thing."

"Don't answer it," Robin grumbled, tugging at the buttons of Vlad's shirt.

"What if it's the Count?" Vlad said nervously, glancing at the door. But Robin ignored him, brushing his stubbly chin against Vlad's cheek. "Hey, stop that."

"The Count doesn't knock," Robin pointed out.

"Shit; you're right." They grimaced at each other.

The knock came again. "Vlad? Are you in there? I need to speak with you. It's urgent."

Robin let his head fall back against the wall. "She really needs to get a life."

"She cares about you," Vlad said. "Besides, you wouldn't be here right now if it weren't for her." He bit his lip. "Er—how do I look?"

Robin opened one eye, looking up and down the length of him with exaggerated slowness. He sighed at Vlad's expression. He combed his fingers through Vlad's hair, tucking a few strands behind his ear. "There."

The vampire returned the favor, before glancing between their bodies with an embarrassed smile. "I'll try to stall for time."

"What—?" Robin looked down and blushed. "Oh."

"Just… think about Renfield. That's what I do."

* * *

Vlad crossed to the door and opened it a crack. "Chloe; hi."

"Are you okay? What took you so long?" She made as if to squeeze by, but Vlad shifted, blocking her view of the room. "Can I come in?"

Vlad did his best to keep his voice level. "Yes; in a second."

"You're acting rather shifty." Chloe eyed him with irritation. She tried to peer around his arm. "Is Robin with you?"

"He's a bit indisposed at the moment." Vlad managed.

Chloe glared at him. "You'd _better_ not be doing what I think you're doing, or so help me God…."

"Shh!" He panicked. "Come inside."

He locked the door behind them. The fourteen-year-old wasted no time, promptly marching over to her brother, who was still leaning against the wall. Spotting the amulet around his neck, she growled.

"So you're the one!" She accused. "I can't believe you. You promised me you wouldn't come back here on your own."

"Lower your voice," Vlad tried to remain calm. "My family has super sensitive hearing, remember?"

Chloe shot him a disappointed look. "And you! I expected better of you. Addict or no, I thought you of all people would take Robin's safety more seriously."

"I…."

"Chloe, he didn't bite me," Robin cut in. "Honest." He was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

"Of course not," Chloe rolled her eyes. "Then I'm sure you have a perfectly good reason for being all secretive, locked up together in Vlad's bedroom alone—oh." She looked between the two of them with sudden understanding. Her jaw dropped.

Chloe covered her mouth. After a moment of stunned silence, she squealed. "Finally!" Her face split into a huge smile behind her fingers. "God, I thought you'd never stop dancing around each other like love-sick idiots…"

Vlad caught Robin's gaze; the taller boy was giving him a mutinous look, as if this was all his fault.

Chloe cleared her throat awkwardly. "Well, in that case, I'm sorry to have interrupted your… you know." She waved her hands, and Vlad noticed her cheeks were slightly pinker than normal. "But so long as we're all here, I really think we ought to talk about what happens next."

Vlad nodded solemnly. "I completely agree, we've got to start thinking more long-term."

"Suck-up," Robin muttered under his breath, knowing Vlad would still be able to hear him. He smiled when Chloe glanced at him curiously. Louder, he said, "My vote is for the surgery idea."

Vlad's nose wrinkled. "The only person around here who's even remotely qualified to pull off something like that is Renfield…. I dunno, Robin. I don't like it."

Robin gave him a weird look. "It's my body. I can do what I want with it."

"You really want Renfield gutting you with one of his 'instruments'?" Vlad asked, incredulous.

Chloe looked uncomfortable. "Alternatively, we could always visit a priest."

"A thousand times, no," Robin said matter-of-factly. "I'm not getting my blood anointed. End of story."

"The third option involves complicated magic." Chloe shot Vlad an apologetic look. "I'm not saying you're not up to it."

"What's the third option again?" Vlad asked.

Robin grinned at him. "You'd have to give me a tattoo."

Chloe rolled her eyes. "There's more to it than that, but; essentially, yes."

"What do I have to do?"

She listed on her fingers. "In order to pull it off, you'd have to learn an entirely new branch of magic; find a place to practice in secret, so that nobody in your family found out—and of course, there's no guarantee it would even work..." She hesitated.

"And? I can tell there's an 'and'," Vlad said flatly.

"And, it could be dangerous; the last part of the ritual would have to be carried out in the dream world. You couldn't stop once you started, otherwise, Robin could die. And remember, if you're attacked in the dream world while you're defenseless, then…."

"Then, I could die," Vlad finished.

"Oh, is that all?" Robin asked sarcastically. "Sounds boring, really."

Vlad began to pace. "I need to think."

"You know, there is another option," Robin said. The others looked at him. "Vlad could turn me."

"No." Vlad and Chloe said, at the same time.

"Right," Robin said moodily. "I don't know why I even open my mouth. Nobody ever wants to know what I think."

"That's not true." Vlad reached out to take Robin's hand, but, eyeing Chloe, thought better of it. "I want to know what you think."

"Yeah? Well, I think you should do it. I think you should turn me."

Vlad closed his eyes and counted to three. "I know how much you want to be a vampire," he began slowly. "I don't want to belittle that." He glanced at Chloe again out of the corner of his eye. "Um... sorry, but do you think you could give us a moment?"

Chloe nodded vigorously. "Of course, yes! I'll... er, be outside if you need me."

* * *

Vlad turned back to Robin when they were alone.

Robin was glaring at the floor. "I don't want to hear another lecture about how much it sucks to be a vampire."

Vlad took Robin's hands, relieved when the other boy let him. "I know. I'm not going to lecture you, I'm just going to listen."

Robin looked him in the eye. "As long as I'm still human, you'll always have to protect me. And then who's going to protect you?"

"Robin…."

"I want us to be equals. I want to _be_ with you, Vlad. I don't want to be your, your…." Robin rambled, searching for the right word. "Fragile breather boyfriend."

Vlad's stomach leapt. "So what you're saying is, you don't want to be my boyfriend," he joked.

Robin made a choking sound. His face looked hot enough to cook an egg. "I... don't see why we have to give it a label."

"I'm just kidding," Vlad said hastily, letting go of Robin's hand. "We don't have to."

Robin sputtered. "I'm not saying we shouldn't, or anything; if you want to, we can…."

"Only if you want to!"

They looked at each other for a long, strange moment.

"I think... I do," Robin said, still looking a bit like a deer in the headlights. The feeling was mutual.

"Me too." Vlad stared at his shoes. It all just felt so... surreal. Too good to be true. The bats were back, setting off fireworks in his belly.

 _Play it cool, Vlad._

Robin darted forward; Vlad looked up in surprise, the sudden motion causing Robin's lips to miss and land on Vlad's nose instead.

Vlad didn't laugh, although the other teen's expression was priceless. Instead, he tentatively reached for the collar of Robin's jacket and, meeting no resistance, stretched up onto his toes to snog him properly. Robin's hand immediately burrowed into Vlad's hair.

When they finally parted, the vampire looked up at Robin, anxious. "We should talk about the... thing."

Robin sighed. "Spoil sport."

"I don't know what the right thing to do is, here," Vlad admitted. "All of the options are terrible."

Robin pursed his lips. "I wish you'd at least consider turning me."

Vlad looked away. "Why do you even want to be a vampire, anyway?" He fiddled with Robin's buttons. "There are other ways to protect me."

"One day," Robin whispered, "I'm going to grow old and die. And you'll still be here; alone."

Vlad swallowed. "We should live for today, and not worry about tomorrow."

"What if we don't have that long?" Robin said, his voice thick. "What if something happened to me? What would happen to you?"

"Nothing's going to happen to you. You have the amulet," Vlad pointed out. "You heal quickly—you can run fast. Who knows what else you can do?"

A cough came from behind them, and they whirled around. Chloe was holding a book. "About that. I found this in the Count's library."

* * *

"How long have you been standing there?" Robin said, affronted.

"Not long." Chloe blinked. "Anyway, I was thinking; what if the amulet's healing powers are stronger than we thought?"

Robin looked at her with renewed interest. "Stronger how?"

Chloe bit her lip. "Well, if you think about it, aging is just a form of cell damage, right? It was just a hunch, but... I went back to your father's library and found this book on old Kings from Eastern Europe. And; here, it's easier to show you." She held up the book, opening it to what looked to Vlad like an endless list of dates.

Robin squinted at it. "What are we supposed to be looking at, exactly?"

"According to these records, King Geoffrey ruled from 1236 to 1412."

Vlad's brow furrowed. "But that's…."

"One hundred and seventy-six years," Chloe nodded slowly.

"Who's King Geoffrey, again?" Vlad asked, looking between them. "I've never heard of him. Was he a vampire?"

"Hang on—is that the same King we found the other day?" Robin asked, with a sudden look of understanding.

Chloe nodded. "The name and date looked eerily familiar, so I looked him up." She pointed at another book. "It says here the King's reign ended violently; he was assassinated in his sleep."

"Would someone please explain to me what we're even talking about?" Vlad asked, frustrated.

"The King was a slayer; for years, he had been passing himself off as his own great-grandson, after using the amulet's power to overthrow the old king, a vampire named Isaac the terrible," Chloe said patiently. "When a local branch of the slayers' guild discovered the king's secret, they stole the amulet back, declaring it property of the Slayer's Guild. When his body was found, there was nothing left but a pile of bones."

"The amulet was keeping him alive all that time?" Vlad shook his head to clear it. "So, what; you're saying the gem's healing magic can extend a breather's lifespan? For how long?"

Robin gaped at his sister. "I could be immortal!"

"We don't know that," Chloe cautioned. "200 years is a long lifetime, but it's hardly eternity. Who knows how long he would have lived if he hadn't been murdered?"

"It's more of a guarantee than we had before," Robin said, a determined glint in his eye. "Vlad, you're right."

"I am?"

"We have to start thinking more long-term." Robin tossed the amulet up and down in his palm with a pensive expression. "I know it's risky, but—I think we should do the spell. Surgery might work. But then, what if I was captured by the Slayer's Guild? They could still take the gem from me by force. We need a more permanent solution."

Vlad was unconvinced. He tried to reason with him. "If I mess up the spell, both of us could die. You heard what Chloe said."

Chloe hugged the books to her chest. "Robin has a point, Vlad. For now, it's the best plan we've got." Vlad hesitated, before nodding. Chloe let out a puff of air. "If we do this, you realize you're going to have to learn about two years worth of advanced material in a matter of weeks? Every day we wait increases our chances of being discovered by the Guild."

"I understand," Vlad said slowly. "Where do we start?"


	19. Control

"Chloe is definitely up to something," Jonno said, taking a large bite of his pepperoni pizza. "I caught her googling magical artifacts, being all shifty." He swallowed his mouthful. "I think they may be searching for some kind of weapon."

Eric had already finished his third slice, and was now staring at the caravan ceiling. "A weapon, you say?" He patted his stomach. "You think they're planning an attack?"

"Dunno." Jonno was tearing pieces off his napkin absent-mindedly. "But it's worth finding out."

"What do you suggest?" Eric lowered his voice. "A stake-out up at the castle?"

Jonno shook his head. "Too obvious. They'll be expecting that." He dropped another napkin flake on the table. "But I have a hunch that whatever they're up to, Robin Branaugh is at the center of it."

Eric grabbed their paper plates and headed for the kitchen. "What makes you say that?"

Jonno shrugged. "He keeps skipping class, and then when he does show up he can't even keep his eyes open. Must be spending all his time up at the castle." Jonno stared out the dark window thoughtfully. "I think he's hoping Vlad will turn him, now that he's come of age."

Eric eyed him. "Hmm, yes; Branaugh _would_ have both motive and opportunity." He stroked his chin, muttering to himself. "He's always had an unhealthy obsession with the Draculas."

Jonno thought that was rather rich, coming from him. Out loud, he added, "Those blood-suckers have been brainwashing him for years. They're probably coaching him to become another Renfield-in-training."

His father shuddered. He'd had more run-ins with the castle caretaker than he cared to remember. "Keep an eye on him. Let me know if you see anything out of the ordinary."

* * *

Vlad was sick of being holed up in the castle—he threw his book to the table in disgust. "We should go out."

"Out?" Robin asked. Chloe had gone home a few hours ago, after the three of them had outlined a study-plan for Vlad. Theoretically, they were supposed to be training. "Where?"

"Anywhere. I don't care," Vlad groaned, rubbing his eyes. "Any good movies come out, lately?"

"Nah." Robin slouched in his chair. "We could always go round my place."

Vlad winced. "Your house isn't much of an improvement. No offense."

Robin sighed. "What's there to do in Stokely?"

"We could go bowling," Vlad suggested. His companion shot him a disgusted look.

"Or we could hang ourselves."

"It was just a suggestion." Vlad clambered to his feet, stretching. "Let's go for a walk, then."

"We could go to the park?" said Robin. He grinned. "Maybe howl at the moon a bit?"

"Yeah," Vlad smiled. "That'd work."

* * *

"When you said you wanted to 'howl at the moon', I thought you were taking the mick," Vlad hissed.

Robin had climbed atop one of the park benches the second they'd arrived. "Quit your whining and get up here."

"But," Vlad protested, but Robin cut him short, grabbing him by the wrist and tugging hard. Vlad clutched at Robin's hand as he found himself flying several feet into the air, feet scrabbling for purchase. The vampire steadied himself on the bench, eyeing the chain around Robin's neck. "Oi. Watch it."

Robin looked terribly pleased with himself. "Where's your sense of adventure?" He put his hands around his mouth, and before Vlad could stop him, let out a long, drawn out howl toward the sky. "Aaa-oooooooooo…"

Vlad covered the other boy's mouth with a wild look. "Stop it! You'll wake everyone in the neighborhood."

"I'm calling my people," Robin insisted.

Vlad shook his head in disbelief and chuckled. "You're a nutter."

Robin put his arms around Vlad's neck, leaning into him. "You love it."

Vlad smiled, despite himself. He kissed Robin soundly, still somewhat amazed he was allowed.

It was strange, but… to Vlad, it almost felt as if they'd been doing this all their lives. Kissing Robin just seemed so natural; like coming home.

Vlad pulled away first; Robin panted. "Oh yeah. Breathing is a thing."

"Speak for yourself," Vlad reminded him.

Robin stuck his tongue out at him, then leapt to the ground, holding out his hand.

Vlad put his hand to his forehead, with an air of drama. "Why, thank you, kind sir."

Robin gave him a regal bow. "Enchanté."

Vlad took the proffered limb and hopped off the bench. Robin stepped closer, placing his other hand at Vlad's waist, and shot him a cheeky grin. Vlad raised his eyebrows.

Robin braced his first hand against the small of Vlad's back, and without warning pushed the vampire into a low dip, supporting Vlad's weight with one arm. Robin eyes sparkled with mirth.

Vlad wrinkled his nose at him, but made no attempt to escape. "Prat."

"Did you know?" Robin said with a chuckle, "Your face goes all grey when you're embarrassed."

"You're kidding." Vlad stared.

Robin helped him back to his feet. "I think it makes you look rather fetching."

Vlad groaned. "Great." He put his hands in his pockets, taking a moment to gaze up at the stars. "You know, it's really inconvenient, not being able to see what you look like."

"I can imagine." Robin gestured toward the road. "Fancy going for a walk?"

"In a minute." Vlad pointed. "Hey, look at that; Jupiter's out."

Robin looked up. "Are you sure that's not just a satellite?"

Vlad rolled his eyes. "Yes." He glanced longingly at the sky. "At least I still get to look at the stars."

"You're taking this whole vampire thing better than I expected," Robin said, gently. "If you ever want to talk about it…."

Vlad shrugged, following him to where the grass gave way to cement. "I just... hate feeling trapped."

They headed around the bend, passing under a streetlight. "We should do this more often," he added. "This is nice."

"Yeah," Robin agreed. He kicked a small rock in their path, and they watched it skip along the road.

There wasn't a car in sight. Stokely was pretty dead at this time of night.

"You seem to be handling the addiction well, too." Robin shot Vlad a furtive glance. "Is it getting worse?"

"Maybe a bit," Vlad admitted. "It's also easier to ignore now, though. I guess you could say I have a good distraction." He smiled shyly at Robin.

Robin lowered his voice, glancing over his shoulder. "Do you need to—you know…?"

Vlad scowled. "I'm fine, thanks."

Robin put a hand on his shoulder. "Just tell me when you get hungry. I can help."

"I said I'm fine." The vampire sighed. "Can we talk about something else?"

"Why?" Robin said suddenly, stopping in the middle of the road. "Why do you do that? I'm just trying to help."

Vlad looked away. "I'm just not in the mood to argue about it."

"I don't know why you always have to make this so difficult." Robin sighed. "It's been days since you last fed. You have to eat eventually."

"Not if I don't want to." Vlad turned away.

"That settles it then, does it?" Robin scoffed. "You're only putting off the inevitable. This isn't going to just go away, Vlad." Vlad stared at the ground. "Would you at least look at me when I'm talking to you?"

"No, I don't think I will." Who did Robin think he was, bossing him around? His father? "It's getting late," Vlad muttered testily. "I think we should head back."

He started to walk, intent on bringing Robin back home.

Robin called out from behind him. "Hey! I wasn't finished!" Vlad kept on walking, pointedly ignoring him.

"I said _look at me._ "

Vlad halted, mid-stride, as an odd tingling sensation flooded through his arms and legs. He felt his head start to turn, as if his jaw were being pulled by an invisible thread. His shoulders and torso soon followed, and his legs didn't seem to belong to him. At last he stood still, facing the taller teen.

Robin's eyes seemed to bore into his soul. Vlad was helpless to do anything but stare back; but as he did, a strange sense of well-being washed over him, soothing his prickling nerves.

Robin had asked him to look, and, well... here he was. How wonderful. Vlad was suddenly overcome with the certainty that whatever it was Robin wanted most in this world, Vlad would see that it was done.

Robin blinked, and the spell was broken. "Vlad?"

The vampire sagged, clutching at his temple. "Ow. What the hell?"

"I'm so sorry," Robin stammered, eyes wide. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Vlad said, suppressing a shudder. His head throbbed. "That was really... something," he managed, not sure if he could even describe what had just happened in English. "What was that?"

"I think..." The other teen looked a bit green around the edges. "I think I'm gonna be sick." Robin stumbled to the edge of the road, bending over just in time.

Vlad followed, wincing in sympathy. He reached out, but stopped himself at the last second, unsure of whether his touch would be welcome at a time like this. He fidgeted uncomfortably. Could he be any more awkward?

Robin straightened, wiping at his mouth with a grimace. "Chloe was right."

"About what?" Whatever Vlad had been expecting Robin to say, it wasn't that.

When Robin had finished checking his shoes for signs of sick, he said slowly, "I can't remember her exact words, but back when we first found out about the amulet, Chloe said that whoever wears the amulet can force vampires to do their bidding. I think... that's what just happened." He looked at his hands, as if they were to blame. "I told you to look at me, and..."

"Yeah." Vlad felt oddly exposed. "Remind me to never get on your bad side," he joked, rubbing at his arms. "Is that what being under hypnosis is like?"

"Maybe?" Robin's brow furrowed. "To be honest, I don't think I really remember anything, you know... after."

"Weird." Vlad wished his skin would stop prickling. "I don't think I could forget something like that."

"I swear I didn't mean to do it, Vlad."

"I know," Vlad said hastily. "It was an accident." He wrapped an arm around Robin's shoulders and gave them a light squeeze; partly to reassure him, and partly to assuage some of his own lingering unease. "Let's get you to bed. You have school in the morning."

Robin nodded, still looking vaguely ill.

* * *

They stopped in front of the Branaugh house, the way they had a thousand times before. Normally, they might have waved, cracked a joke—sometimes, they didn't say anything, and went their separate ways in silence. Tonight was different.

Robin spotted Vlad's expression, his own uncertainty reflected back at him, and pulled his leather jacket more tightly around his shoulders. "It's nice out tonight, isn't it," he said, when the emptiness grew too loud.

Robin could have hit himself. What a load of bollocks. How about, _I'm sorry I stole your free will, Vlad._ Or better yet, _I really want to kiss your perfect mouth._ His face grew warm.

Vlad nodded, licking his lips. "Yeah, it really is."

Robin's eyes couldn't help but be drawn to the movement. There were probably dozens of reasons he shouldn't kiss him; not the least of which were his brothers. He glanced up at the south-facing window, which overlooked the front steps. If the twins saw, he'd never hear the end of it.

Plus, his mouth probably still tasted of sick. Robin grimaced. But Vlad was clearly a little shaken up from earlier, and looked like he needed some kind of reassurance that they were still okay.

Surely one little kiss wouldn't hurt?

Vlad seemed able to read his thoughts. "It's okay," he whispered. "We don't have to do anything. See you later?"

Robin nodded tightly. "Yeah. Later." His heart sank.

 _Coward!_ His brain berated him. _What do you have to lose?_

"That's my cue." Vlad waved sadly at him, and turned to leave. Robin waved back. _What are you doing? Don't just stand there!_

He watched, as if in slow motion, as Vlad ran toward the shadow of a nearby tree, then launched himself into the chilly night air.

 _That's my boyfriend up there,_ the bizarre thought occurred to Robin, as he watched Vlad float away, his cape billowing out behind him in an absurdly photogenic pose, which reminded Robin strongly of the film posters which lined his bedroom walls. _Shame to see him go._

Robin didn't think—he ran forward, and leapt, in a rough approximation of Vlad's much more graceful trajectory, aiming for the vampire's heels. His brain caught up to what he was doing just in time to be impressed that he was actually within reaching distance. Robin stuck out an arm blindly, managing to catch hold of the other boy's ankle, and tugged Vlad's leg sharply in a downward direction.

A split second later, they hit the ground—fortunately, Vlad's quick reflexes spared them both a messy landing—and somehow, they even landed on their feet.

A breathless moment passed, in which Robin's stomach seemed convinced it was still flying. His heart was pounding like mad.

Vlad was looking at Robin as if he'd never seen him before.

"I wanted to give you a proper good night," Robin said breathily, by way of explanation, and before his courage could abandon him, pulled Vlad into a searing kiss.

Vlad held himself stiffly, then seemed to sag into his touch. "Good night," he murmured when Robin stepped back.

"Good night," Robin said.

* * *

Vlad was still grinning like a fool when he reached the last row of houses at the base of the hill. He felt lighter than a feather, like the slightest wind could pick him up and carry him off.

So, this was love.

He stooped to pick up a rock, smiling as it scattered across the pavement.

He had seen a whole new side of Robin, tonight. He thought of the way Robin had looked, howling at the moon, gazing down at him fondly as he dipped Vlad over his arm...

What a prat. He picked up another rock, tossing it up and down several times before drawing back, lobbing it across the street.

The stone went farther than expected; it skipped several times, once on the cement, twice over a hedge. Vlad cringed as its final arc sent it crashing into a car parked in his neighbour's driveway, setting off its sirens. A horrible wailing sound split the still night.

Vlad covered his ears. The neighbour's lights came on, and he panicked, fleeing to the row of bushes lining the house. He risked a quick glance around the hedge, eyeing a woman in a fluffy robe and slippers who had come out to investigate the fuss.

He couldn't help but feel a bit foolish. What was he doing, crouching in the dark like a criminal? He was a Prince of Darkness, for God's sake. Vlad squared his shoulders, stepping out from around the bushes and into the light.

"Hi—Ms. McCarthy, isn't it?"

The lady, who looked to be in her mid-forties, had been bent at the hip, examining the wheels of her car. She straightened when she heard her name, clutching at her lower back. She squinted at him. "You're that Count boy, aren't you?"

"That's me." Vlad tried for a charming smile.

Ms. McCarthy harrumphed, clearly unimpressed. "Should have known you'd be the cause of it. Teenagers these days; no respect for private property."

Well, he had tried to play fair. Vlad stepped closer, pushing a bit of his power into his gaze. "I'm terribly sorry, Ma'am, to have caused you trouble. I'm happy to pay for the damage." He pushed harder. "Surely we can come to some sort of understanding?"

"Yes, of... of course..." Ms. McCarthy's face went slack as she spoke, and she dropped the mug she was holding. It shattered on the pavement, much to Vlad's horror, slicing a deep gash across her foot.

Ms. McCarthy just stood there dully, seemingly unconcerned with this development, and stared at Vlad with a blank expression.

"Ms... Ms. McCarthy!" Vlad stuttered, eyes wide. He ran forward on instinct, intent on examining the extent of the damage, but stopped himself just in time. _Don't breathe._

"Sit," he ordered. "Where is your kitchen?"

Ms. McCarthy did as she was told, squatting stiffly and pointing behind herself. "Just down the hall and to the right," she said, her voice a low drone.

Vlad darted around her, opening the front door—and cursed. He couldn't enter. He needed to be invited.

But an invitation had to be willingly given in order to count—it was one of the rules.

He turned, gazing down in bewilderment at the chaos unfolding before his eyes. Ms. McCarthy was still perched awkwardly on her front steps, although her right slipper was now drenched completely crimson.

* * *

Vlad was trying very hard not to panic. It wasn't working. _Think, Vlad!_

The scent of the blood had begun to waft its way toward Vlad's face. He backed away, covering his mouth with his hand as the first lick of the smell hit him, but the motion only sent more of it into his nose.

 _Oh…._ His fangs emerged, and suddenly, Vlad realized he was famished.

And there his prey sat, less than a metre away; totally helpless. _She's yours for the taking. What are you waiting for?_

 _I… I can't._ The part of him that was still rational had noticed that the blood on Ms. McCarthy's slipper had started to drip onto the pavement. That couldn't be a good sign.

He tore his eyes from the puddle of blood, forcing himself to look at the woman's face. This was his neighbor. A knot of self-loathing twisted in the pit of Vlad's stomach.

He was in control of his own destiny. Not his reflection, and certainly not his addiction.

He knelt, still covering his nose and mouth, fighting against the intense urge to pounce. It took every ounce of willpower not to grab his neighbor's leg and….

He ripped off a piece of his shirt, tying it in a tight knot around Ms. McCarthy's ankle. He risked one last deep breath, then rotated her body so that her foot was elevated.

"Look at me," he said. "Is there anyone else at home?"

"My husband," Ms. McCarthy said slowly. "He's asleep. I was in the kitchen; I heard the alarm and came to the door…."

"Never mind that," Vlad interrupted. "You will call 911, and tell your husband that you dropped your mug and cut yourself." He was running out of air to speak with. With the last of his breath, he said, "The pain is not that bad, but you need to hurry."

He snapped his fingers, and sped off until he was safely behind the hedge. He waited until he heard Ms. McCarthy gasp, and the door slam behind her as she scrambled up the stairs, yelling for her husband.

Vlad let his head fall back against the wood. That had been way too close.

His stomach rumbled.

He glared down at it furiously. "This is all your fault," he hissed, then frowned. _No, Vlad—it's_ your _fault. You should have listened to Robin._

He pushed away from the tree, fighting the urge to kick something. All right, so he was a little hungry. So what? He'd escaped without mauling his neighbor, hadn't he? That meant he was still under control.

 _Yes… but for how long?_

His mouth watered.

* * *

Robin rubbed his bleary eyes as a sharp rapping came from the window. He sat up, suddenly on full alert. "Vlad? Is that you?"

"I'm sorry to wake you. Can I come in?"

"Of course!" Robin rolled himself out of bed, pushing the covers onto the floor. He padded to the window, shoving it upward until he was face to face with a distraught-looking vampire. "Are you okay, mate? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Vlad clambered into his bedroom. "You were right. I need blood. Now."

"Oh." Robin was glad his blush was obscured in shadow; then again, Vlad could see in the dark. "I'm glad you came to your senses." He noted the guilty look in Vlad's eyes, and lowered his voice. "Did something happen?"

"No; nothing happened." A look of disgust flitted over the vampire's face, and Robin decided to drop it. For now.

"Come here," he said instead, scooting backward on the bed and opening his arms. Vlad's face crumpled, and he allowed himself to be captured in a fierce hug.

"I don't want this," Vlad whispered into his shoulder. Robin rubbed calming circles into his back.

"I know." Robin put a hand on the back of Vlad's head, pulling it lightly it until Vlad's lips were pressed against his neck. "Take what you need."

A few tears ran down Robin's collar, and he tightened his arms around the other boy protectively. "Shh... it's all right, Vlad. It's not your fault."

He bit back a hiss as Vlad's fangs punctured his skin, then closed his eyes. The gentle pull at his neck as Vlad sucked the blood from his veins was both thrilling and soothing, all at once; like jumping into a pool on a scorching hot summer's day.

Vlad moaned, pressing closer. Robin let him, still rubbing circles through his t-shirt. After a few minutes, Vlad pulled away; his lips were wet.

Robin didn't care. He kissed him, holding the vampire close to his chest. When he finally released him, Robin licked his lips, curious. His blood tasted like metal. Vlad watched him closely, his eyes dark.

"Feeling better?" Robin asked, combing a gentle hand through Vlad's hair.

Vlad nodded.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

The other boy started to shake his head—then seemed to sort of collapse in on himself, and curled into Robin's chest. Robin listened as Vlad recounted what had happened, combing his fingers over and over through the teen's hair.

"It was horrible," Vlad whispered, when he had finished. "I never want to feel like that again." He wiped at his mouth. "Can you do me a favor?"

Robin looked into his eyes, searching; what for, he wasn't sure. "Of course. Anything."

Vlad hesitated. "Can you use the amulet's power to order me not to hurt anyone?" he asked; gauging Robin's reaction.

Robin bit his lip. "I—I would, but I don't know how."

"Please. Just… try?"

How could he refuse anything Vlad asked of him, when he looked at him like that? Robin nodded, thinking hard. How had he done it earlier?

He cleared his throat. "Vlad."

"Yes?" Vlad asked, looking puzzled. Robin swore under his breath.

"No—that was supposed to be part of it." He stared at Vlad, and tried focusing on how frustrated he had felt, back in the park, when Vlad refused to admit that he needed Robin's blood. And look how well that had turned out? His eyes narrowed.

"Vlad…. _I hereby forbid you from biting anyone apart from myself. The next time you crave blood, you will come to me. You are not to feed from anyone else_."

Vlad gazed at him, transfixed.

Robin grinned a little, despite the gravity of the moment. He didn't even feel sick, like last time. Besides; it was okay, because Vlad had told him to do it. And really- it was so cool that he could finally do something that Vlad couldn't, for once.

He snapped his fingers, and Vlad blinked groggily. "It didn't hurt that time," Vlad muttered.

"Did it work, d'you think?" Robin asked, curious. Vlad seemed to think about it, then shrugged.

"I suppose we'll find out. Either way—thanks for..." The vampire clutched at his head. "Oh, never mind, there it is. Ow... That is so weird."

"Sorry," Robin frowned. " _Is it that bad_?"

"No; it feels good to obey." Vlad covered his mouth at the omission, looking scandalized. "Robin, you're doing it again!"

"Am I?" Robin said, awestruck. "Awesome." He wisely decided not to comment on the first part of Vlad's statement, though he filed _that_ interesting piece of information away for later.

He yawned.

The guilty look made a comeback. Vlad shifted. "I'll let you sleep. You've had enough sleepless nights thanks to me."

"Will I see you tomorrow evening?" Robin asked, tugging on Vlad's shirt. Vlad leaned in for a chaste kiss; it was interrupted by a second, larger yawn from Robin.

Vlad yawned as well, and laughed. "Guess yawning's still contagious."

"Fascinating," Robin said, leaning back against the wall. His body felt like it was weighed down with bricks. "Don't know why I'm so tired, all of a sudden…."

"It's probably the blood loss," Vlad said softly. "You should get some rest. I'll be back tomorrow."

"Promise?" Robin demanded, his eyelids fluttering shut. Vlad kissed him, then stooped to rescue his covers from the floor.

"Promise."


	20. Instructions

Vlad added another book to the 'finished' pile, which landed with a satisfying _plop_. Being a vampire really was handy at a time like this: he'd gotten through six books already, and his eyes weren't even tired.

Still—he glanced up at the shelves around him with a sigh—there was a lot to cover. And it was nearly dawn.

"This plan had better work," he announced to nobody in particular, as he picked up another book. He paused as a loud growl emanated from his stomach. Vlad frowned.

Strange... He'd fed just a few hours ago. Then again, he had skipped dinner; much to the Count's chagrin, he'd skived off meals for the day.

He shook his head, returning to his book. He read for another few minutes, then stopped, sniffing the air.

Vlad glanced at the door, confused. The whole library suddenly reeked of Robin, but—that didn't make any sense. Robin was at home, in bed.

He frowned again. At least, that's where Robin was supposed to be. Maybe he hadn't been able to sleep, and had decided to come see him? Vlad's eyes narrowed at the thought. Robin had missed so many classes already on his behalf; he would have to have a stern conversation with him later about making good life choices.

The smell intensified. Had a draft brought the scent to the library from downstairs? Vlad perked his ears, combing through the various sounds of the castle.

There was the usual banging of pots in the kitchen—that would be Renfield, cleaning the dinner mess. The harsh scraping of a metal file... someone, probably the Count, was sharpening their fangs before retiring for the morning. He strained, listening harder. Still no sign of Robin.

Vlad stood, crossing to the door. The smell vanished; almost as if it had never existed in the first place.

 _Am I hallucinating, now?_ Vlad thought wildly. He stood motionless for nearly a minute, ears perked, before shaking his head and returning to his pile of books. He'd ask Chloe about it later.

After catching himself re-reading the same sentence for the third time, Vlad growled. It was no use. He couldn't concentrate.

He rested his head against the shelves, closing his eyes. _Maybe I should take a break?_ After all, it was morning. He was probably just tired.

When he opened his eyes, moving to stand up, he froze. Robin was standing in front of him, bare-chested and panting, as if he'd taken the tower stairs two at a time. "Robin? What happened? Why aren't you at school?"

But Robin said nothing. Vlad gasped as he spotted the fresh trails of blood running down Robin's neck and along his side. He jumped to his feet. "Oh my god, are you okay?"

He reached out to grab Robin by the shoulders, but his fingers caught nothing but air.

Vlad stared at the empty space where Robin had been standing just moments before. That... couldn't be a good sign.

* * *

"Hey, wait up!"

Robin briefly considered ignoring him. The git deserved it.

"Robin!"

Robin turned, scowling. "Oh, it's 'Robin', now, is it?" he said sarcastically, as Jonno caught up to him and stooped over to catch his breath. He made air-quotes. "Don't you mean 'Weirdo Number 2'?"

"Look, about that," Jonno began. "Actually, I... wanted to apologize to you. I've been a total prick."

"Apologize? To me...?" Robin's eyebrows flew into his hair. "Why?"

Jonno stood up straighter, meeting Robin's gaze. "Because Chloe asked me to."

Robin scoffed, but before he could escape Jonno side-stepped him, blocking his path. "But I really am sorry."

Jonno shrugged at Robin's incredulous look. "Chloe's right; I've been letting the feud between my dad and the Draculas cloud my judgment of you. You may be weird, but you're still a human. And it's my job as a slayer to protect you."

Robin managed to stop gaping long enough to respond. "Are you sure you're feeling all right?" he squinted, checking the other boy for signs of hypnotism. "Have you been spending any time with Ingrid, lately?"

"No," Jonno said, looking offended by the suggestion. "Look; it's an apology. Take it or leave it." The slayer-in-training crossed his arms. "At least I can tell Chloe I tried."

"Wait." Robin cleared his throat. He still didn't trust the man; he couldn't, not after everything the Van Helsings had tried to do to Vlad and his family. Still; Robin had to admit that sometimes, the apple _does_ fall far from the tree. Just look at Vlad—or at him, for that matter.

He sighed. After a beat, he grit out, "Thanks... for the apology."

Jonno nodded, smiling at him. "Don't mention it." He held out a hand. "Truce?"

Robin looked around quickly, to make sure no one was watching. When he looked back, Jonno's eyes were fixed on his chest for some reason, but he looked up when Robin caught him staring.

Robin crossed his arms as subtly as he could, blocking Jonno's view. His heart pounded. Had Jonno noticed the amulet?

"...Truce?" Robin asked, hoping to distract him.

"Us humans have to stick together," Jonno explained, sounding earnest. He leaned in. "If you ever want out, just let me know. My father and I can protect you."

"Right…" Robin said awkwardly; not sure how to make the conversation end. He took Jonno's hand, shaking it quickly before letting go.

The bell rang. "I've got to go to class," Robin said hastily, and before Jonno could respond, he turned, making his way down the hall at a brisk pace.

* * *

Jonno opened his locker, thinking hard as he grabbed his books for next period.

He'd seen the glint of a chain around Robin's neck, and that unmistakable lump under Goth boy's t-shirt had been roughly the size and shape of a large pendant.

It was obvious Robin hadn't wanted him to see it. But why wear jewelry that big just to keep it hidden?

His eyes narrowed. It must be related to the weapon he'd seen on Chloe's laptop, somehow. He had to find out what the necklace did, before it was too late.

"Jonno! How are you?"

The slayer turned, smiling as he spotted the younger, nicer Branaugh walking toward him.

"Hey, partner," he said. "Ready for the quiz?"

"Of course," Chloe replied, all charm and sweetness. "Shall we, then?" she asked, gesturing behind him in the direction of the classroom.

"After you."

* * *

Vlad held up the handcuffs, considering. After a moment, he put them in his pocket, feeling a bit foolish. Still, better safe than sorry.

He grabbed an umbrella and what little remained of his bottle of SPF 150 sunscreen, and headed downstairs, checking the phone Mrs. Branaugh had purchased for Vlad on his fifteenth birthday.

Robin had texted him a few minutes ago, telling him to meet him outside the school by the dumpsters at dusk. The sun would be setting any minute now, but Vlad couldn't wait a moment longer. All day, he'd been plagued with incredibly realistic visions of Robin in various states of undress; usually covered to some degree in blood. Wherever he went in the castle, the visions would follow. He shuddered. It was driving him mad.

The urge to see Robin had only grown as the day wore on. It was like a fire, burning just below the skin. Vlad could only think of one way to make it stop: he had to _go to him._

The only problem was the sun, which was currently scorching the land like a terrible, fiery god. Vlad could hardly believe he'd ever _liked_ being outside during the day.

Now, though, just minutes from sunset—he had a chance. The rays were at their weakest.

He quickened his pace. It would still hurt; but it would be worth it, if he got to see Robin.

* * *

When he got to the front door, Ingrid was there, waiting for him. She smiled. "Hello, brother dearest."

Vlad scowled. "Out of my way, Ingrid."

"Where are you going this early?" Ingrid asked innocently. "Off to visit your boyfriend at school?"

Vlad sighed. She'd find out sooner or later. "Actually; yes."

Ingrid blinked. "What? Really?"

"Yes, _really_ ," Vlad snapped. "Now if you'll kindly move, I can get back to it." His sister stared at him.

"All right, all right," she said, stepping easily to one side. "No need to bite my head off." Vlad opened his umbrella and charged through the front door. She watched him go with calculating eyes.

Will came up behind her, closing the door.

"Since when does Vlad have a _boyfriend_?" Ingrid asked. "More importantly, who figured it out first, Robin or Vlad?"

"He's been drinking the breather's blood," Will said quietly. Ingrid scoffed.

"Last I checked, Robin is still human," she sneered, although her expression grew thoughtful.

"Wake up and smell the blood, Ingrid," Will said. "Those two are hiding something, I know it; whatever it is, it's allowing Vlad to drink from Robin without turning him."

"I suppose there are ways of blood-letting without inducing the transformation," Ingrid muttered.

Will shook his head. "Not unless you know of one that completely heals all signs of injury. I saw Robin; his collar was covered in O negative but there wasn't a scratch." He adjusted Ingrid's collar. "I think they're playing with forbidden magic."

"Well, then." Delight dawned on Ingrid's face. "This ought to be fun."

The two of them traded smirks.

"My thoughts exactly."

* * *

"Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow…." Vlad darted as fast as he could from shadow to shadow, lurching between buildings and stopping every so often to nurse his burns. His umbrella had broken almost immediately from the speed of travel, and the sunscreen only did so much.

He glared at the blip of light teetering on the horizon; the sun still had a little ways to go. But there was no time to waste! He bared his fangs, growling in frustration.

 _Be careful, Vlad—what if someone sees your fangs? Your secret will be out._

Vlad scowled. _I don't care! I need to see him._

 _You will see him,_ his reasonable side—was it his conscience?—soothed. _Wait for sundown. You won't be seeing anyone if you're a pile of ash._

Meanwhile, that other voice inside him—the one that haunted his day-mares—hissed. _You need blood. He told you to_ go to him _!_

"Argh!" Vlad knelt, clutching his head. "Would you two cut it out? You're driving me mad."

He glanced up as a car drove by. A young couple was eying him cautiously through the window. _Breathers._ When they saw him looking, they sped up down the road. Vlad swore under his breath.

"That's it. I've turned into a raving lunatic." He rubbed his eyes. The sun was nearly past the hills; the surrounding sky had darkened to a dull purple-y orange. "What is happening to me?"

 _Go to him!_

"I will!" Vlad yelled at no one. "Just… give me a minute. Everything hurts."

Imaginary-Robin appeared before him again. When he spoke, his voice was uncharacteristically stern. "What's taking you so long?"

Vlad rubbed at his eyes, shaking his head. "You're not real." When he looked up, Robin was gone. "Stop messing with my mind!"

A thick cloud passed over what remained of the sun. Now was his chance!

He sped off toward the school; all he could do was hope that when he got there, everything would start to make sense again.

* * *

When he arrived, standing in the exact spot they had agreed on (behind the art classroom, near the green dumpster), it was to find Robin missing. Vlad's hands clenched into fists.

"Robin, where are you?" he hissed, glancing around. The sun had finally disappeared. He paced, agitated. "You said you'd be here."

"I am," Robin called out. Vlad whirled around. "Sorry, mate. I was in 7A, waiting for the sun to set, and then Lincoln kept me late. He would not shut up about his stupid dog." Robin dropped his bag on the ground. "Did I keep you waiting long?"

"No," Vlad said, and as he stepped closer to the other boy, he found the tension in his chest dissipating, replaced with a light, giddy feeling.

He gave Robin a genuine smile. "How are you?" he asked. Now that he was here, with Robin in his sights, his desperation from earlier seemed utterly inexplicable. They were together, now—what was there to worry about?

The other man grinned, his eyes sparkling. "I'm great now, thanks." He pulled Vlad in for a snog.

Vlad returned the embrace, closing his eyes and deepening the kiss. He pushed Robin backward, a bit more forcefully than usual. Robin broke the kiss as his back hit the dumpster, making a face. "Look, I appreciate the thought, but can we at least move to the wall?"

Vlad picked Robin up, zipping over to a secluded spot in the dumpster's shadow. Robin's eyebrows raised into his hairline as Vlad shoved him up against the bricks; the taller boy's cheeks were tinged a slight pink as he echoed Vlad's words from several days ago. "Eager, are we?"

Instead of responding, Vlad laced his fingers into Robin's wavy black hair, nibbling on his lower lip.

"Ouch," Robin said, as one of Vlad's fangs nicked him. "Hey; your fangs are out. Are you feeling all right?" He said, pulling back.

Vlad could barely hear him. He stared at the bead of blood welling up on Robin's lip, growling low in his throat.

* * *

Robin gave Vlad an assessing look. "Your eyes are dilated. What's wrong?"

Vlad ignored him, capturing Robin's lips and groaning, licking at the spilt blood. "You taste so good," he said, panting against the teen's cheek. He went in for another kiss, but Robin stopped him short.

"Hold on. Something's happened to you."

"I'm fine," Vlad insisted.

Robin didn't budge. "Have you been up all day again?" he said.

"I... maybe." Vlad admitted. He blinked, looking a bit more clear-headed. "I was hungry, but the sun was out and you've missed so much school because of me."

Robin's eyes widened. "Why didn't you just text me? I could have come over at lunch."

"Because it's fine," Vlad insisted. "Besides, I just drank from you yesterday. It wouldn't be good for you."

Robin licked his lips, wincing at the taste of blood. "How long do vampires usually go without eating?" he asked, uncertain. Was this normal behaviour? He rubbed at his neck, thinking. He should really know this stuff by now.

"My dad can go weeks without blood," Vlad said, his brow furrowing. "That's what I don't understand."

"Right…." Robin muttered slowly. "The addiction is getting worse, isn't it."

"No!" Vlad insisted. "I'm in control."

Robin noticed the scorch marks in Vlad's shirt for the first time, and his nose wrinkled. "Were you burning?" he demanded, holding the vampire at arm's distance as he looked him over. "I told you to wait until the sun set!"

"I couldn't…." Vlad's cheeks were ashen. "I couldn't wait."

Robin groaned. "What am I going to do with you?" he muttered. "Look—if you get hungry again when I'm at school, just raid your dad's blood cellar. No making yourself crazy. All right?"

"I don't want their blood," Vlad hissed, baring his fangs. His eyes glowed red. "You told me to come to you."

Robin stared at him, taken aback.

The other shoe dropped. He could have kicked himself, it was so obvious. "I did. Didn't I." _Shit._ "Vlad. _I hereby give you permission to drink other people's blood._ " He hesitated. " _So long as it's from a bottle._ " Not sure what else to do, he snapped his fingers in front of the other man's face.

Vlad blinked, his eyes looking unfocused. "Robin?"

"You should be fine now," Robin said, hugging him. Vlad held himself stiffly for several seconds, before sagging gratefully into his embrace.

Robin rubbed comforting circles into the other boy's back. Vlad held him tighter. "Thanks."

Before Robin could respond, Vlad had pulled him into a kiss, sending sparks all the way to Robin's toes.

When they broke away, the vampire smiled shyly. "I love you, Robin," he said; then stuttered, as his brain caught up with his mouth. "I mean… you don't have to…."

Robin's cheeks felt warm. His throat tightened painfully. "I care for you too," he managed, not quite able to bring himself to say the other thing.

"You do?"

Robin rolled his eyes, pulling him in for another hug. "Of course, you toothy git."

He was glad that Vlad's eyes were closed, so he couldn't see the sappy smile on Robin's face.


	21. Bound

"Want to hear something strange?" Robin said, twirling his straw in his milkshake.

Vlad propped his chin on his fist, leaning against the bar. He was content to watch Robin eat. "Mmm?"

After Vlad had explained the strange visions he had been experiencing all day, and the two of them had agreed to talk to Chloe about it later, they had decided to head to Stokely Diner, the only place in town that had half-decent sandwiches.

"Jonno apologized to me today." Robin shrugged at Vlad's skeptical look. "I know. I couldn't believe it either."

Vlad's lip quirked. "What for? Being a complete tosser twenty-four seven, three years running?"

Robin slurped his drink. "I believe he said something along the lines of 'Van Helstink Senior has clouded my judgment of you'." He shuddered at the memory. "He wanted to declare a truce."

Vlad leaned forward. "A truce? You mean… between slayers and vampires?" An expression of wonder fell over his face.

Robin laughed. "No, I don't think that's it. He told me 'Us humans have to stick together'; something like that." Robin took a bite of his sandwich. "If I had to wager a guess, I'd say vampires were less than invited."

"Pity." Vlad still had that faraway look. "In another life… maybe some kind of peace would be possible between our worlds."

"Maybe," Robin shrugged again, pilfering one of Vlad's untouched chips. "Not hungry?" he joked.

Vlad just smiled disarmingly at him. His eyes glowed red, and Robin choked.

The vampire smirked as Robin coughed. "You're too easy," he said. He tasted one of his chips, grimacing. "You know, these aren't as good as I remember."

"More for me, then," Robin said, and gleefully stole the rest.

* * *

"Is this a date?" Robin asked somewhat dubiously, after Vlad had dutifully paid for their meal.

"What? No!" Vlad stuttered, face grey as Robin eyed him. "Well…"

"Relax, I'm not going to bite your head off," Robin said. "Although I can't speak for your dad, when he finds out about us." He grinned, shaking his head. "I still can't believe you told Ingrid."

"She was bound to find out sooner or later," Vlad said defensively. "What's the worst she could do?" He winced. Robin raised an eyebrow at him. "I mean… other than everything she's already done, obviously."

"You need to stop underestimating that woman," Robin said. They were nearly at the theatre. He paused to read the billboard and groaned. "Nothing good is ever on."

Vlad pointed at one of the movie titles. "What about that one? I liked the trailer."

"'Taking Liberties'?" Robin read. His nose wrinkled. "Isn't that a romantic comedy?"

Vlad put his hands in his pockets. "Right. Nevermind."

Robin took in Vlad's hunched shoulders and pinched expression, and rubbed his neck. "If you want to see it that badly, we can go."

"Nah, that's fine," Vlad insisted. "Would look a bit weird, wouldn't it? Two blokes, going to see a film like that…."

Robin felt bad; Vlad was obviously disappointed. "So what? Who cares what everyone else thinks?"

"Really, it's fine." The vampire jerked his head in the direction of the school. "Want to go hang out on the rugby field? Practice is over by now, we'll have the place to ourselves."

Robin hesitated. He _would_ much rather spend time with Vlad alone…. "Sure, why not?" he agreed.

Vlad sighed in relief, and as the two of them headed back the way they came, Robin graciously changed the subject.

* * *

"So, you can phase through walls, project your consciousness out of your body, set things on fire, transmute objects into insects, travel faster than the eye can see, turn into animals, fly, conjure lightning out of thin air, hypnotize people…" Robin was running out of fingers. "Am I missing anything?"

The two of them were balancing on the bleachers, Robin walking one row higher than Vlad. The field was dark, except at the far end of the stadium, closest to the school.

Vlad sighed. "Can't cross running water; have to sleep in coffins—or at least close to symbols of death, like skeletons." Robin grinned at that.

The vampire rolled his eyes. "Let's see, what else? Our powers don't work well in the presence of heavy metals, or religious symbols…. Can't go into any building if we aren't invited…." Robin scowled, but Vlad pressed on. "Or how about the fact that practically everything can reduce us to a pile of ash, like garlic, sunlight, _pointy wood_ …. And that's not even mentioning the uncontrollable blood lust."

"Yeah, yeah," Robin interrupted, kicking a paper cup that someone had left behind.

"Look, you're the one who brought it up," Vlad pointed out, exasperated.

Robin hopped onto Vlad's bleacher. "I was _trying_ to make a point."

"Which is…?"

The taller boy shot him a look. "Until now, you've been deliberately focusing on the bad parts of being a vampire, instead of celebrating the good parts."

At that, Robin crouched, concentrating; then winked before shooting up into the air, leaping over the bleachers and landing heavily in the muddy grass.

Vlad grinned despite himself. He followed the other boy's lead, jumping ever so slightly higher than Robin had, and used his powers to drift gracefully to the ground.

His toes made contact first; he grinned at Robin, whose own boots were covered in mud. Robin stuck out his tongue.

"Now, what would a proper vampire say in this situation? Let me think," Vlad said, tapping his chin. "Oh, I know—kiss my cape."

"My pleasure." Robin smirked, and pounced. Vlad zipped to a safe distance, but Robin had prepared for that; the moment he landed he spun around, increasing his speed just enough to catch the corner of the other boy's cape.

"Let go," Vlad said, laughing as the momentum twirled them around. "You'll tear it."

"In that case, you'd better do exactly as I say." Robin grinned darkly at him. He tugged at the fabric, and Vlad happily allowed himself to be pulled closer.

Robin traded the cape for Vlad's shirt, and leaned in close. Vlad followed his lead, until his lips were achingly near to Robin's own; but before they could make contact, he smiled.

There was a faint click. Robin looked down at his hands, bemused.

"What…?" His eyes widened comically, and he gaped at the ornate cuffs. "Why do you even have those on you?"

"Ah, ah," Vlad said, his voice low and sweet. "You're hardly in a position to be asking questions."

Robin was staring at him like he'd grown a second head. "Jesus, the mirror really pulled a number on you. What the hell happened to the sweet, sulky Vlad I grew up with? Don't get me wrong, I'm loving this side of you, but…." He shivered as Vlad walked around him, hugging his waist from behind and tucking his cold chin in the crook of Robin's neck.

"I like this side of you, too," Vlad muttered. "But I think I'd like it better if I had you up against the wall."

Robin swallowed heavily.

Vlad smirked into the nape of Robin's neck. "I can smell your excitement, you know. I can hear the blood, rushing through your body…." He ran a hand down Robin's back, trailing his fingers along the other boy's hip until he reached the front of his thigh. Vlad gasped. "There it goes!"

Robin squirmed. As the vampire's hand slid upward, coming to rest on the front of his jeans, he let out a loud, undignified keening noise that was somewhere between a moan and a squawk. "Vlad!" he cried out. "Please…"

"Please what?" Vlad's voice was scratchy and uneven. "Please this?"

He brushed his hand softly over the tent in Robin's trousers; Vlad could feel the heat from Robin's groin radiating through the cloth. The other boy was so hard... Vlad bit back a moan. He was supposed to be the one in charge here.

Robin made to turn around in his arms, but Vlad held fast to his waist. Hugging him close, he sped them over to the wall of the locker rooms, trapping the taller boy between his arms. Robin stared down at him, his face flushed pink.

Vlad stepped between his captive's legs, bracing his hands on the wall on either side of Robin's chest and bringing his groin flush against Robin's hip.

They groaned. "Cuffs," Robin panted next to his ear.

Vlad shook his head, fumbling with Robin's zipper.

Robin whimpered as Vlad snaked a hand inside his trousers. "You…." He moaned as Vlad's hand began to move. Robin reached with cuffed hands, tugging impatiently at Vlad's button-up. "Let me touch you…."

Vlad pushed Robin's wrists above his head. "Keep those there," he ordered, and tugged Robin's T-shirt, pulling it up and over Robin's head until it was bundled around his wrists. Robin shivered as the night air hit his chest, his nipples hardening. It awoke something in Vlad, the sight the other boy made: braced against the cold brick, all bound and hard and wanting.

 _Mine,_ Vlad thought, struggling with his buttons; he paused long enough to free his arms from the sleeves before tossing the offending garment to the ground, along with his cape.

Vlad brought their chests together and both of them hissed at the contrast of skin on skin. "So hot," Vlad muttered, capturing Robin's lips in a feverish kiss. The amulet was digging into his ribs, but Vlad was too far gone to care about the pain.

Robin reciprocated hungrily, moaning as Vlad's hand returned to his jeans. "No, don't, I'll …."

Vlad latched onto Robin's neck, planting kisses all along his jaw and shoulder. The smell of Robin's skin was too enticing. He couldn't help it: his fangs descended, and he bit down, hard.

Robin cried out, his body going rigid, and Vlad shuddered as Robin pulled sharply at his hair. Vlad was so close. He sucked desperately as he ground his erection into Robin's hip, the feel of the other boy's blood on his tongue a blinding flood of sensation.

Robin's cuffed wrists wrapped themselves around Vlad's neck—he mouthed at Vlad's ear, and Vlad gasped as his orgasm hit. He clung to Robin's arm, eyes falling shut against the intensity of it.

"Ungh," he mumbled into Robin's skin several minutes later. The amulet had healed the wound, leaving no trace of damage. It was disconcerting, how the very chain of the necklace seemed to wick away blood on contact. Vlad buried his nose in Robin's hair. "That was…."

"Amazing," Robin agreed. He shifted. "But, er… Would you mind taking the cuffs off now?"

Vlad grinned against the other boy's neck. "Mm. I think you should wear them for the rest of the night."

Robin let out a long-suffering sigh. "Who'd have guessed you'd be such a kinky bastard?" Vlad could practically hear Robin's smirk. "How am I supposed to wash up without hands, then?"

Vlad pretended to think. "Magic?"

"Pretty sure that's not one of your powers, mate. Or mine, for that matter..."

Vlad rolled his eyes. "Fine." Robin lifted his arms, and Vlad extricated himself from the other boy's embrace. He fiddled with the key around Robin's neck, but his hands were clumsy and unhelpful.

His captive smiled goofily down at him. Vlad scowled playfully. "I can't think with you mooning over me like that."

Robin hummed, sounding pleased as hell and not in the least inclined to help Vlad in his efforts. At last, after a bit more finagling, the latch to the cuffs sprung free.

Vlad reluctantly released the other boy's wrists. Robin's eyes were large, dark orbs.

"Now I can snog you properly," he said, his voice soft. Warm hands enveloped Vlad's face, and the vampire found himself drawn into an achingly gentle kiss.

* * *

Vlad fairly floated the whole way home. He whistled as he walked down the hall, intent on finding a nice bottle of blood down in his dad's cellar to celebrate his recent induction into the world of sex.

Well, sort of. Did a hand job count as sex? Vlad stopped in his tracks, considering.

"Vlad. We need to talk."

Ingrid stepped out of the shadows. "You again?" Vlad scoffed, his good mood dampened considerably. "I have nothing to say to you." Why'd his sister always have to go and ruin the moment?

"I know you're drinking Robin's blood," she said, and Vlad froze.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he stated calmly, glaring in Ingrid's direction. It was Will. It must have been.

"Cut the crap." Ingrid sniffed the air; her nose wrinkled. "I can smell it on you. You've been guzzling the stuff like it's hot chocolate." She glanced him up and down. "But Robin's still human. What I want to know is how."

"You have some nerve," Vlad scoffed. "As if I owe you some sort of explanation. You ruined my life, and probably Robin's, too. I owe you nothing."

"No," Ingrid agreed. "But what about Robin, hmm? Are you sure your little arrangement is safe?" She smirked at her brother's defiant expression. "If you really care about his safety, you'll tell me the truth. Is what you're doing dark magic?"

Vlad was about to reply with a resounding "no"; but something in the way Ingrid had said it gave him pause.

The amulet's powers were all about protection, healing. Then again… his thoughts turned to the events from earlier. Robin could control him. Could make him do things that he didn't want to do. Wasn't that dark?

The amulet was designed by slayers to hunt vampires. Still…. The gem's magic was the only thing keeping Robin safe.

"The truth is written all over your face," Ingrid said. She looked mildly impressed, despite herself. "Didn't know you had it in you. Perhaps you're not as useless as you look."

"I… I don't know if it's dark, or not," Vlad said slowly, raising his head. He met Ingrid's gaze. "But I don't care."

His sister raised an eyebrow. "Really? I think you should." She tutted under her breath. "Because breathers and dark magic… well, let's just say they don't mix."

"What are you saying?"

Ingrid stared at her nails. "I'm saying that if you're not careful, you'll mess up Branaugh's life more than I ever could."

Vlad's patience was wearing dangerously thin. "You have three seconds to tell me what the hell that means, or I'll…."

"Keep your knickers on." Ingrid's lip quirked. "Repeated exposure to dark magic corrupts breathers. For vampires, it's not a big deal—we're already evil, power-hungry maniacs. But with humans it's different." Vlad's eyes widened. "The magic slowly poisons their blood, until their personalities start to change—they start to crave the power, and that craving possesses them until they lose themselves in it. Over time, they become unrecognizable." She crossed her arms, looking smug. "I told you you should turn him. At this point, it'll be safer for him in the long run."

Vlad felt… cold. He shook his head, staring into space with a look of horror. "No, that's…. You're lying." He rested a hand against the wall for support, and did his best not to be sick. "God, please tell me you're lying."

"For once, I'm not."

"No... No, no no, please no." Angry tears welled up behind his eyelids. "I can't lose him..."

Ingrid's smile slipped. She took in the sight of her brother's trembling shoulders, and frowned. "You really love him, don't you?" she said finally, after a tense silence.

Vlad stared back at his sister. "Every time I try to do the right thing, it backfires. I'm just so..." he let out a growl of frustration, hands curling into fists. "I'm sick of it. Why can't I be happy?"

Ingrid bit her lip. After a few strained moments of silence, she stepped forward. When she was less than a foot away, she reached out a hand and patted him stiffly on the back. Vlad wiped at his eyes, and Ingrid sighed.

"It's my fault," she said at last, as much to her own surprise as his. She looked completely out of her element. The awkwardness settled around them like a damp blanket.

"I thought if I gave you his blood, you'd finally give up on the whole 'breathers are friends, not food', thing," she continued. "But I see now that I was..." She bit her lip. "I didn't mean to mess up your relationship with Branaugh."

Vlad stared at her in disbelief. It was the closest to an apology he'd ever heard from her. Ingrid shifted uncomfortably. "If you ever breathe a word of this to anyone, I will end you."

Vlad nodded, thoughts turning once again to Robin. All of their careful planning had come to nothing. What the hell were they going to do?

Ingrid pursed her lips. "It's only gotten worse, hasn't it. The addiction."

That was a bit of an understatement. "Every time I give into it, it's like... the need for his blood just gets stronger." He hugged himself. "It's practically all I can think about."

Ingrid's expression hardened to one of resolve. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but…" She sighed. "You can't drink from Robin anymore."

"I don't... I don't know if I can stop." Vlad turned away, absolutely revolted with himself. "Are you happy now? I'm a bloodthirsty monster, just like you, and Dad, and Granny Westenra and _everyone_ always wanted." Vlad wiped his wrist against his nose. "And Robin…. He'd never say anything, but I can tell. Lately, I've been taking too much. It's making him weak."

His sister winced. "You could always turn him."

Vlad glared daggers. "Not helpful, Ingrid."

"At least he'd be safe." Ingrid shrugged. "The addiction would end."

Vlad glanced at her sharply. "What?"

Ingrid gave a laudable imitation of a deer in the headlights. She cleared her throat. "I may have left out a few important details," she admitted quietly. Vlad gaped at her.

"Trust me, just this once—you've got to tell me how you've been keeping Robin human."


	22. Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

"Morning, Sis!" Robin waved at Chloe from the breakfast table as she descended the stairs.

Chloe paused on the third step, staring openly as Robin shoveled the last few bites of cereal into his gob, jabbing a thumb in the direction of the door. "Come on, then; don't want to be late, do we?" he mumbled cheerily through his mouthful.

Chloe eyed her sibling for signs of brain damage, fishing an apple from her pocket and taking a large bite. Robin was never up this early.

"Well?"

Chloe swallowed, taking a moment to slip her phone into her bag, and made her way downstairs. But before she could reach the bottom step, Robin was already gone, the front door squealing on its hinges in his wake.

She had to jog to catch up.

"Ready for school?" Robin offered pleasantly, as she approached.

"Yes," Chloe said, still looking him over skeptically. And as they neared the end of their street, she found she could no longer contain her disbelief. She stopped in front of him, hands on her hips. "All right. Who are you, and what have you done with my brother?"

"Hmm?" Robin met her gaze evenly, but seemed distracted. He squinted up at the sky with the strangest expression—a smile, Chloe realized with a jolt—before shrugging out of his leather jacket, folding it neatly over one arm. "Nice weather today, isn't it? Respectable cloud cover."

Not knowing what else to do to make it stop, Chloe reached out to prod him sharply in the shoulder.

"Oi—watch it." Robin scowled. "You know I bruise easily."

She sighed. "I suppose it really is you, then."

"The one and only," he grinned.

"Since when is the 'one and only' Robin Branaugh a morning person?" Chloe accused, baffled by his sudden mood swing.

Robin shrugged. "I just have a good feeling about today. That's all." He paused, patting his jeans with a look of intense concentration. "Shit. Where is it…?"

"Why? What's happening today?" Robin shook his head, a small frown appearing on his face as he searched.

"Oh, right—it's in my jacket…."

"What is?" Chloe asked impatiently.

Just then, her phone chirped. She glanced at the screen with agitation. Who would be texting her this early?

It was Jonno. He wanted to meet up later, to discuss their project. Chloe sighed, sending off a quick reply.

Lucky their presentation was tomorrow. She could hardly wait to be done with it.

She felt a prickle of guilt at the thought. Jonno had turned out to be a dedicated and considerate partner; a fact which Chloe appreciated immensely, given how distracted she had been as of late. She'd been so busy, between preparing for the ritual and juggling all her other classes, and Jonno had been so helpful and understanding.

Still, it was exhausting to have to constantly look over her shoulder, in case Jonno tried to… well, in case he tried anything. Her eyes narrowed at the thought. Despite the goody-two-shoes act he'd been putting on, she knew full well what he was capable of.

Just the other day, Jonno had asked after Robin's health, of all things, completely out of the blue. It was the strangest thing. He'd asked if the Counts were keeping Robin busy up at the castle, making an offhand joke about 'one too many sleepovers with Vlad'. Chloe had done her best to change the subject, which, judging by the glint in his eyes, Jonno had definitely noticed. He'd clearly been fishing for information about the Draculas; but for what purpose, Chloe could hardly guess. Whatever it was, it couldn't be good.

"Oh, nothing—just looking for these," Robin was saying. "Thought I'd lost them." Chloe did her best to remember what they'd been talking about, glancing over at her brother with pursed lips. He was pointing to his head—or, no—to his favorite set of skull-studded earbuds, from which she could hear the faint hum of heavy metal music.

"Mm," she replied vaguely, her thoughts still on Van Helsing.

* * *

They walked the rest of the way in silence, the sound of heavy metal wreaking havoc on Robin's eardrums the only disturbance to the peace.

At the top of the hill, Robin stopped short. Chloe frowned as the sound of laboured breathing filled the air, and glanced at him sharply. "Are you all right?"

Robin was doubled over, hands braced against his knees. "Yeah, just; hold on a second," he huffed. He was covered in sweat. "Whew."

"If a titchy little hill like that can get the best of you, then you really need to get in better shape," Chloe admonished, not able to keep the concern from her voice.

To her surprise, Robin chuckled. "Yeah, that's what Vlad keeps telling me." He straightened, adjusting his bag and wiping sweat from his hairline. "All right." He continued on toward the school, as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

Chloe hesitated, then followed suit.

As perplexing as Robin's behaviour was, she supposed it was also, on the whole, an improvement. After all, he did seem… happier these days, if a bit odd. Well, _odder_.

She frowned, noticing for the first time that morning the dark circles under Robin's eyes. Vlad must have kept him up late again last night. Probably not for the first time, either.

Perhaps Jonno had a point after all.

* * *

They slowed as they neared Chloe's locker. She fiddled with the combination, shooting sideways glances at her brother while she worked.

Robin was waiting off to the side, leaning against a nearby locker and staring at the far wall, evidently lost in thought.

The halls were still fairly empty—classes wouldn't start for at least another ten minutes. Still, she felt the need to check for potential eavesdroppers. "So…" she said casually. "Have you and Vlad made any progress so far?"

Robin turned to look at her at last, and nodded, a sly smile stretching at the corner of his mouth. "You could definitely say that."

Chloe lips quirked, actively suppressing laughter as she stuffed her bag into the locker. "I was talking about the other thing," she said, lowering her voice. "You know, the ritual?"

Robin's smile fell away at once. He shrugged, although a tinge of colour in his cheeks belied his attempts at nonchalance. "Yeah, so was I."

She nodded sagely, not wanting to spoil the rare moment of peace between them. "Are we meeting Vlad after school today?"

"Yes," he said quickly. Robin's guilt was easy to read. "Look, it's not that I don't want you there, but I was kind of hoping that Vlad and I could—"

Chloe held up a hand, with what she hoped was an understanding smile.

"It's fine—I get it. Jonno and I have to meet up tonight anyway, to discuss our presentation." She grabbed her books, bumping the locker closed with her hip. "Just remember, we need to stay focused on the task at hand. The longer we wait to start…."

Robin sighed, his cheeks finally starting to return to their normal pasty white. "Fine. I'll make sure to _also_ talk to Vlad about the ritual. Happy?"

"I'll be happy when you and Vlad are safe." Chloe said softly. "I'm ready if you are."

"You go ahead. I'll catch you up at lunch." Robin was feeling especially thirsty after their walk from earlier. He crossed to the drinking fountains across the hall, sighing when he spotted the 'Out of Order' sign taped across the larger one.

The good fountain was always broken.

Robin hunched over the shorter machine awkwardly, slurping at the water in quick gulps.

The chain around his neck prickled and grew warm. He wasn't sure how he knew, but somehow he did, with absolute certainty: he was being watched. He opened his eyes, just as Jonno Van Helsing entered at the other end of the hall.

Robin choked, coughing and spurting water all over his shirt. He scowled, wiping at his lips. _Great._

He was _definitely_ not in the mood to talk to Crazy, Jr. Not today.

He stood, intent on making as swift an exit as possible. But as he turned, his face began to tingle unpleasantly. He clutched at his forehead, and stayed very still, in hope that the feeling would pass.

The world around him spun for several seconds, green and purple spots crowding his vision. Robin swayed in place, and had to brace himself against the wall with one hand.

His neck prickled again, and he stole a quick glance out of the corner of his eye. Van Helsing was staring at him.

Their eyes met. Van Helsing was the first to look away.

Robin rubbed his face, and continued on down the hall—although more slowly this time. Thankfuly, his own locker was on the opposite end of the school from Van Helsing.

He paused in front of his locker, making sure the coast was clear before checking his jacket pocket one last time.

By now the spots had faded, and his thoughts turned again to tonight's meeting with Vlad.

Robin smiled when his fingertips met cool metal. It was a good plan, he thought to himself smugly as he zipped his jacket; a plan that would surely prove to be as rewarding as it was cunning. In other words: tonight was going to be awesome.

Robin could hardly wait.

* * *

Vlad stared up at the roof of his coffin, Ingrid's words from the previous night tumbling around in his head. This was becoming a bit of a habit of his.

He'd retired to his coffin several hours ago, after a long heart-to-heart with his sister—or as close to one as he could get, considering the choice of conversation partner. But still, sleep eluded him.

Vlad had told Ingrid as much about the amulet's powers as he dared to without revealing its name, or its significance to slayer lore. He'd simply explained that the stone's magic prevented Robin from turning into a vampire, and left it at that.

At first, she had been adamant that the best way to cure the addiction would be for Vlad to turn Robin, after draining him of all his blood. It was what most vampires in his situation did, and it was at least guaranteed to work. Plus, Robin would be thrilled to join the ranks of the undead, and didn't Vlad want him to be happy?

But Vlad had eventually won the 'which Dracula is the most stubborn' contest, and Ingrid had admitted there was one more option.

Of course, even after she'd told him, she still tried to talk him out of it. _Don't forget what happened to Uncle Ivan_ , she'd said. _If you choose this course of action and fail, you'll be right back to square one._

 _I'll take my chances_ , Vlad had told her. And that had been the end of it.

Vlad rubbed at his eyes, and tried to focus on what he was going to say to Robin when he saw him.

Thanks to Ingrid, he now knew that his ailment, although magical in origin, was in at least one way just like any other addiction: with enough time spent off the stuff, he should be able to recover, at least enough to get his life back in order.

Eventually, he'd be able to stomach animal blood, and maybe even get back on soya substitute; but until then, it was best to go completely dry. Not one drop of Robin's blood, or of any human for that matter.

Of course, even if he did manage it, there was always the risk of a relapse….

Vlad sighed. He really should try and get some rest. Nothing he could do about it now. Besides, being tired just made it harder to resist the urge to feed.

He knew that Robin was going to hate the idea, but what alternative did they have? Robin had to stop wearing the amulet, which meant that Vlad had to stop drinking Robin's blood; which in turn meant that Robin needed to stay away from him, at least until he could better control himself. It was as simple as that.

He rolled onto his side, curling in on himself as much as the confined space of the coffin would allow. His stomach growled.

Simple, perhaps—but far from easy.

* * *

 _Only two and a half more hours to go_.

Robin grinned to himself as he wandered down the hall toward his next class of the day.

"Hey, Branaugh; wait up!"

He cringed as he recognized the voice.

Robin resisted the urge to walk faster, instead tucking his books under one arm and waiting impatiently for Van Helsing to catch up. "What is it? I'm late, so make it quick."

Van Helsing gave him an appraising look. "All right?" He asked. "You're looking even more terrible than usual."

The other boy was peering at him in what seemed to be genuine concern. A cutting retort sprung immediately to Robin's lips. Instead, he said, "I'm fine, Van—Jonno. Thanks. Now if you don't mind, I'm really going to be late for Trigonometry."

"I get it. You have a lot on your mind. Just, before you go…." Van Helsing stepped closer, momentarily blocking his escape. Robin's neck prickled. It tended to do that a lot around Van Helsing. "I just wanted to tell you; my offer from earlier still stands. If you ever want out, my father and I can protect you."

"I really don't know what you mean," he said, his voice straining with the effort to be polite.

"I'm talking about the Draculas," Van Helsing amended.

"Keep your voice down," Robin hissed.

Van Helsing held up his hands. "Sorry… the Counts." He looked at Robin seriously. "Listen. I know you think Vlad is your friend, but if you ever start to feel in over your head, just… don't forget what we talked about."

Robin's patience was hanging by a thread. "Like I said, I'm fine. So thanks for the offer, but—no thanks."

Van Helsing looked at him for a long moment, then shrugged. He seemed disappointed. "Suit yourself, Robin. Just don't say I didn't warn you."

Robin raised an eyebrow at that, but found he no longer had the energy to argue. He headed down the hall, eager to get this whole day over with.

But before he could make it more than five paces, darkness fell.

* * *

He awoke to a small crowd, which had gathered around him. "Give the man some room," Van Helsing was saying. Strong hands gripped his wrists, tugging him to his feet. Robin swayed, blinking stupidly. "Let's get you to the nurse."

"I'm fine," Robin insisted, though before he knew it he was being forced to sit down in a small office, and offered a glass of juice. "Thanks…."

A woman who looked to be in her early thirties shone a painfully bright light into his eyes, momentarily blinding him. "Look at my finger…. Good… now this side…."

Robin knew he had seen her for a previous visit, but couldn't remember her name.

That done, the nurse fitted a cuff around Robin's upper arm, and the sound of puffing filled the room.

"His blood pressure is a bit low," she muttered. "Thank you for bringing him."

"No problem," Van Helsing, who was sitting off to the side, replied at once.

Robin's stomach felt like it was full of cotton. Remembering his drink, he took a sip. The juice was delicious.

He looked around the office, finally beginning to feel collected enough to be embarrassed.

"Sorry," Robin said to the nurse, who was scribbling something in her notes. "Don't know what came over me."

"How many hours of sleep did you get last night?" The nurse asked kindly.

"About… five? Or four, maybe?" Robin glanced down at his lap. "I guess it's been a bit rough, lately. I'll go to bed early tonight."

The nurse pursed her lips. "That's a start. And did you eat breakfast?"

He nodded. The nurse noticed him staring at Van Helsing, and turned to the room's other occupant.

"Thank you, Jonno," she said to him. "You can go back to class, now, if you like."

"But, Miss Warren—"

"Mr. Branaugh is going to be just fine. Off you go."

Robin eyed him as he left. "Could I have some water, too?" he asked, and Miss Warren brought him a paper cup. "Thanks."

"Any improvement?" she asked him seriously, once Van Helsing had left.

"Yes," Robin said, realizing that he meant it.

Miss Warren smiled at him. "You can head back to class when you're feeling better. But you're welcome to stay as long as you need."

Robin nodded gratefully, and the nurse busied herself with paperwork.

A few minutes later he stood, feeling more stable than he had all morning. "Thank you, Miss Warren," he said at last, after he had knocked back the last of his water.

"I want you to take it easy for the rest of the day, Robin. I don't want to see you here again."

"Yes, Ma'am."

* * *

 _Vlad stared out at the starry horizon, which seemed lopsided somehow._

Where am I?

 _All Vlad knew for sure was that the sky was weird; and that he was lying on his side on some sort of hard, wooden surface. He blinked, and sat up, his eyes widening as he took in more of his surroundings._

" _I'm… on a boat?" He'd only been on a boat once before, last summer when he'd gone fishing with the Branaughs. This one was about the same size as that had been, large enough to seat about four people._

 _He startled as he caught a flash of something white by his feet. A small cat was wriggling its way out from under the narrow compartment stowed beneath his seat._

 _Simon hopped onto the bench across from him, its eyes large orbs that shone almost as brightly as the moon._

" _You again?" Vlad asked in amazement._

" _Small dream world, huh?" Simon joked, his toes opening and closing rhythmically against the polished wood. "It's nice under there. Dark, cramped—just like a coffin. You'd like it."_

" _I… think I'll pass," Vlad said slowly. "This is a bit of an odd place to be meeting, don't you think? In the middle of the ocean?" He shook his head. "I thought cats hated water."_

" _We do," Simon yawned. "Although this is clearly a river."_

" _A river?" Vlad asked, looking around them. "Are you sure?"_

 _Simon sighed. "There's a shore on either side."_

 _Vlad squinted, looking off in the distance. Sure enough, there was a long, black smudge against the horizon, which he supposed looked enough like land. "That still doesn't explain why you're here." He paused. "Or, why I am, for that matter."_

" _It doesn't?"_

 _Vlad's brow furrowed. Was that supposed to be a hint?_

 _He gazed again at the far shore; then, finding nothing of interest, looked down at the river itself._

 _Barely any light penetrated the water's dark depths, although he could see that it was flowing away from the side of the boat._

" _I know the dream world is a big fan of symbolism, but I think I'm going to need a bit of help with this one." A small wave lapped against the side of the vessel, rocking them gently. Vlad shivered._

" _You still haven't asked the most obvious question," Simon said, whiskers twitching._

" _You mean, besides 'Who in their right mind goes fishing in the middle of the night'?" Vlad joked weakly. He frowned. "Hang on. I thought vampires couldn't cross running water. I know I couldn't, the first time I entered the dream world."_

 _Simon licked his paw._

 _Vlad shivered again. "None of this makes any sense."_

 _The cat sounded bored. "I will say this: nothing in the dream world is what it appears to be."_

" _Right. Dream symbolism, or whatever." Vlad sighed, rubbing at his arms as he wracked his brains. "Let's see. The moonlight… represents my relationship with my father. The stars are my destiny, the boat is the curse of vampirism, and…" He hid a smirk. "That fat cloud over there is Magda."_

" _Your cunning knows no bounds," the cat drawled. Vlad pouted at it. "You are a credit to the name Dracula. History will remember your glorious…."_

" _Okay, I get it," Vlad interrupted irritably, rubbing at his eyes. Wasn't sleeping supposed to be restful? He sighed. "Fine. I'll solve your stupid riddle."_

 _A vampire and a cat… on a boat… in the middle of an impossible river._

 _Vlad scratched his head. "So, what you're saying is, we're not really in a river. It just looks like a river. The water isn't water, and the river is… well, it's not really a river." Vlad's stomach sank. "No."_

 _Simon simply looked at him._

 _Ever so slowly, Vlad leaned over the side of the boat and dipped his fingertips into the river. He brought his hand close to his face, squinting in the moonlight._

 _It was difficult to discern any colour in the darkness, but Vlad could tell the fluid's identity from the way it clung to his skin. And then there was the smell: he was amazed he hadn't noticed it before._

 _It was blood. They were floating in an enormous river of blood._

" _If this place really is just a product of my mind, I'm starting to get a bit worried," Vlad whispered, staring out at the enormous river with a strange mix of horror and fascination._

* * *

Robin hummed to himself as he shut his locker, ambling on autopilot toward his usual meet-up spot with Chloe by the stairs.

He was halfway there before he remembered that she wouldn't be there: she was catching a ride home with Van Helsing after all, to help prepare for their presentation the next morning.

Robin smiled. That would give him plenty of time to go over the details of his plan. He wanted tonight to be perfect.

* * *

" _I'm surprised you're taking this so well," Simon said. "I would have thought you'd be more… stressed out." He yawned again, showing his small, pointed teeth. "Could it be that you're beginning to actually_ like _being in the presence of blood?"_

 _Vlad squirmed, uncomfortable. "Of course not. This is just a dream. Why should I be worried about something that isn't real?"_

 _He hadn't thought it was possible for cats to grin—but apparently it was. "An excellent point, Vlad. Well, congratulations on solving the puzzle. You did it." Simon curled up on the bench, his chin tucking under his tail._

" _Is that really it?" Vlad squinted at the feline. "Why am I still here, then?"_

" _Dunno," Simon purred. "It's nice, though, isn't it? Might as well enjoy it."_

 _Vlad disagreed. Out loud, he said, "So what am I supposed to do now?"_

 _The cat opened one eye. "It's your dream."_

" _Right." Vlad stared out at the vast expanse of blood. 'Nice' was the wrong word entirely, but it_ was _strangely peaceful—which only added to his discomfort._

 _Was he supposed to row to shore? He searched the boat for something to steer it with, finally spotting an oar on the far side._

 _He stood carefully, so as not to rock the boat, inching closer to the oar. He grasped the smooth wooden handle in both hands, taking a moment to admire the craftmanship, before plopping back onto the bench with a 'thud'. He raised the oar, then parted the waters with the flat blade of the paddle, the motion sending rings of water radiating outward across the surface of the river._

 _Vlad rowed steadily for several minutes; but much to his annoyance, apart from spinning slowly in place, the boat didn't seem to be going anywhere. He slapped the surface of the water with the oar, nearly dropping it as a muffled shriek pierced the air._

" _What_ was _that?" he demanded of his companion with wide eyes. But Simon had fallen asleep._

 _Vlad bent over the edge of the boat, holding his breath as he peered into the water. His heart clenched. Whatever had made that noise sounded like it was coming from below, but Vlad couldn't see anything through the black liquid._

" _The only way to know for sure is to take a drink," Simon piped up from behind him._

" _Oh, now you're awake?" Vlad glared at him, straightening. "And you can't be serious."_

" _But I am." Simon's tail flicked. "You know… vampires can tell a lot about the living from their blood. What sort of people they were. Whether they were happy, depressed; cruel." He hesitated. "Whether they were kind."_

" _What does that have to do with anything?" Vlad wondered aloud. He recoiled. "Are there_ people _down there?"_

 _The cat was silent._

" _How do you know all of this, anyway?" Vlad asked, not able to keep the accusation from his voice. "And why are you the only one who coaches me in my dreams, these days?" He swallowed, thinking back to his first experience in the dream world. "It used to be Robin."_

" _Robin cannot visit you in the dream world while he is wearing the amulet," Simon said, matter-of-factly. "It protects him from all of your psychic abilities."_

 _Vlad looked at the cat sharply. "All of them? Even… even hypnosis?"_

" _Especially hypnosis."_

 _Vlad's throat tightened. "But I thought…."_

" _You thought you were in love with him?" Simon asked. "Perhaps you are. I guess you won't know for sure until he removes the necklace. Ah well." He pointed his tail at the river. "Go ahead, take a drink. Discover what waits for you below."_

 _Vlad ignored him, still stuck on the first part. "He can't take off the necklace, not yet; it isn't safe. I'm going to wean myself off of his blood, but in the mean time he needs the protection. Just in case." The cat's tail flicked, and Vlad scowled. "I'm not going anywhere near that stuff. Drop it already."_

" _Suit yourself," the cat said, sounding put out. "But you should know that by the time it is safe for Robin to take off the necklace, it will probably be too late."_

" _Too late?" Vlad asked._

" _Dark magic has a way of changing breathers' hearts. But who knows? You may come to like the new Robin even better than the old one."_

 _Vlad hugged himself, suddenly cold. "So Ingrid was right—the amulet really is dark." He paused. "Hang on…. if Robin can't visit me in my dreams, then why was he able to do it before, when I was hiding in my coffin under the castle? I'm absolutely positive he was wearing the necklace then."_

 _Simon walked to the edge of the bench, crouching over the side of the boat and batting at a passing wave with his paw. "You caught me." He said magnanimously. "That wasn't Robin, before. It was me."_

" _You?" Vlad asked, shaking his head and gazing out at the river with a furrowed brow. "How can that be? You were in the dream, too." He stiffened. Slowly, he turned to look at his companion._

 _But Simon had disappeared. In his place sat a teenage boy, who looked just like Vlad. Well, almost._

 _The boy smiled at him, wiggling his fingers. "What took you so long?"_

 _Vlad's eyes went wide, and he clutched at his head as the events from the mirror room came rushing back. How could he have possibly forgotten?_

"You. _" Vlad stood, wobbling as the boat rocked from side to side under his shifting weight. "I don't know what you're trying to do here, but whatever it is, it won't work."_

 _His reflection looked amused. "I'm flattered, but you clearly don't need any help from me. Just look at how well you've done so far."_

 _Vlad ignored it. The thing stood, stretching out its arms in a manner that was oddly reminiscent of Simon, then darted forward, leaping into the air._

 _It dove gracefully into the water, sending waves of blood crashing up and onto the deck. Vlad yelped, wiping at his hair and face. "That's disgusting!" he shouted after it._

 _But his reflection had already disappeared into the abyss._

* * *

Vlad awoke with a yell, cursing as he hit his head on the coffin lid for the umpteenth time. "I hate this thing," he mumbled, snapping his fingers to open the lid.

He remembered everything. The mirror room. The dream. His reflection's terrible grin.

Vlad looked down at himself, feeling ill. He knew one thing for sure: that… _thing_ was still inside of him, somewhere, just waiting for him to screw up. It had tried to make him to drink from the river….

Vlad wasn't a complete idiot. Even he could grasp the symbolism behind that.

He grit his teeth. He'd beaten his reflection once, and he could very well do it again. And this time, he'd be ready.

His brooding was interrupted by a loud buzzing sound emanating from a small mountain of dirty clothes. That would be his phone. He rummaged through the pile at vamp speed. He found it in yesterday's trousers, and glanced at the screen anxiously.

It was Robin. Of course it was. Vlad placed the phone on the coffin, and stepped away as he hit the 'answer' button.

One of the downsides of supersensitive hearing: mechanical speakers of all kinds grated terribly on his ears. He could only stand it from a distance.

"Vlad?" Robin sounded a bit breathless.

"Robin—Are you all right?"

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line. "Yeah, I'm fine. Did you forget about our date?"

Vlad stared at the phone. Shit. Robin had texted him after Vlad left last night, asking him to meet him at dusk by the rugby field. He'd been so wrapped up in his conversation with Ingrid that he'd completely forgotten about it.

"I did. I'm sorry, Robin, I fell asleep." Vlad pinched the bridge of his nose, searching for something to say. He didn't want to have to break the news to Robin over the phone, but… what choice did he have? He couldn't risk the temptation of seeing him in person.

"No problem. So, will I see you at 5:30, then?" Robin checked.

 _No. I can't see you at all, actually, not for a long while._ "Um… sure. I'll be right there."

"Excellent! See you soon."

Robin hung up, and Vlad proceeded to hit himself. Repeatedly.

"Coward," he growled. His thumb was already scrolling through his recent calls to call him back, when he stopped.

Maybe it was better this way. Robin deserved a face-to-face explanation. Surely he could manage just one last visit; just long enough to explain why he needed to keep his distance, and then he'd leave again.

Vlad gulped. He should call Chloe—ask her to come with him. It would be easier to break the news to Robin if she were around. And that way, if anything went wrong….

He thumbed through his contacts.

Chloe picked up halfway through the first ring. "Hello? Vlad? Are you okay?"

Vlad bent down to pet Simon, who had woken from his nap and was demanding attention. He stroked the kitten's head, trying hard not to think of the other Simon—the one from his dreams. "Yes, I'm fine. I… was wondering if you could come with me tonight to meet Robin. I have something to tell you both."

"Uh… maybe later I can, but right now I'm with Jonno," Chloe said cautiously, sounding tense. "We're working on our presentation. Is it an emergency?"

Vlad hesitated. It wasn't really an _emergency_ , per se. "More like… business." He kept his answer vague, in case Jonno could somehow hear him. "Call me back when you're finished?"

"Of course," Chloe said. "I'll call you as soon as I'm done."

Vlad crossed to his coffin and stood before it awkwardly, fidgeting. It was almost 5:30. Should he go and see Robin anyway? Perhaps he could stall him until Chloe got there.

Making up his mind, he grabbed his cloak.

* * *

Jonno waved at Chloe from the caravan, then focused his concentration on pulling out of the Branaugh's driveway without hitting anything.

He'd gotten his license several weeks ago, but it was still nerve-wracking, driving his dad's huge caravan all by himself. His father was away on Guild business—which was lucky, seeing as he was under strict instructions not to drive it under any circumstances.

Not that Chloe needed to know that.

He tapped his thumbs on the steering wheel as he made his way down the winding road that led to his dad's lot behind the school, thinking about Chloe's behaviour.

She had been distracted all afternoon—and then when Count had called her, she'd rushed through the rest of their preparations, practically tossing him out on his ear not five minutes later after making some lame excuse about wanting to help her mother with the wash.

Jonno knew what that meant. Something had happened to Count, something that worried her badly enough to forget about school. And anything that could do that was worth investigating, especially when the Draculas were involved.

Robin hadn't been at the Branaugh house, which meant he was probably up at the castle. And wherever weirdo number two went, weirdo number one wasn't far behind.

He stared absentmindedly at the blur of perfectly manicured lawns and concrete as he drove. The sun had set a few minutes ago, but the sky still glowed a dull orange, bathing everything in a warm, pale light. He braked lightly as he neared the school's rear lot, thinking hard.

Jonno knew he should probably wait until tomorrow to investigate, since his dad would be back in town. He was still just a slayer-in-training, and wouldn't be earning his badge for a few years yet. And, after all: the first rule of slaying was to always have backup.

Or was it to always protect family? Jonno shook his head. It was one of the rules, anyway.

Still, there were other considerations. As practically everyone in town knew, Eric… was a bit useless in a crisis. Jonno loved his dad to death, but he couldn't deny the fact that nearly every mission they'd ever had ended up botched because of him.

And, just as importantly, if the Draculas and Branaughs had teamed together to create some sort of weapon, time was of the essence. If he waited until tomorrow, it might already be too late to stop them.

His hands clenched on the wheel. He had to do something; find out what they were planning.

He pulled into the school lot and turned off the engine. He had just descended the steps of the caravan, and was about to start setting up the awning when he spotted movement through the trees ahead. He squinted. Someone was standing out in the middle of the school rugby field. And not just any someone.

 _Branaugh._ Just the man he wanted to see. He looked like he was waiting for someone. For Count, no doubt.

The hair on the back of his neck stood on end.

Thinking quickly, Jonno grabbed his weapons bag from the back of the caravan, sprayed himself with scent-blocking perfume, and made his way to the fence that surrounded the rugby field, hoping he hadn't been spotted already.

A blur, and a moment later, Vlad Count was standing next to Branaugh, an anxious expression on his face. Jonno gulped. He must have used his super speed, because he'd been looking right at Branaugh the whole time and still hadn't seen the vampire arrive.

It was as they had suspected: Count had his full powers.

They were talking, but Jonno was too far away to hear. He had to get closer. He looked around, spotting a damaged section of the fence. He crawled to it and slipped under as quietly as he could. Branaugh and Count were deep in conversation, and didn't seem to notice his approach. He crouched behind the bleachers, straining to hear what they were saying.

* * *

"You seem sulkier than usual," Branaugh said softly. He was looking Count over in concern. "Is everything all right?"

Count stepped closer, taking Branaugh's hands. "No… it's not." He muttered something that Jonno couldn't hear, then reached out a hand to touch the other boy's face.

Branaugh pulled away from the contact. "I'm fine. Just didn't get much sleep last night."

"I'm sorry; I just worry about you."

Branaugh smiled at that. "I know. I worry about you, too." He leant forward, taking hold of Count's shirt and pulling the vampire into a kiss.

Jonno watched in shock from his hiding place, his mind reeling. He'd heard plenty of rumors at school that Count and Branaugh were... involved, but had never actually believed it. He shook his head, refocusing on the conversation.

"I have something to tell you," Count began, but Branaugh cut him off.

"I have something to tell you, too, Vlad," he said mysteriously, his tone playful. "But... me first. Don't move until I tell you to _._ "

Count seemed to stiffen all over. "Seriously?"

Branaugh stepped closer, holding Count's wrists in one hand and fishing around in his jacket pocket for a few moments, before lifting up something small that glinted in the light.

Count's expression was truly comical; he seemed unable to move from shock. Jonno would have laughed at the sight, were he not in hiding.

Branaugh wrapped what looked like metal rings around Count's wrists, and they closed with a 'click'. He stepped away, admiring his handiwork. Count looked like he couldn't decide whether to be angry or amused, and instead had settled on annoyed. Branaugh was circling around the vampire, whistling as he stared at Count's rear. "Nice view."

"Let me go, Robin. I mean it. We need to talk."

"Not until I thank you properly for last night," Branaugh said, his voice low as he wrapped his arms around Count's chest from behind. "You're not the only one with a kinky side, you know."

"Robin...!"

"Mm?"

Jonno's cheeks felt hot. It appeared he'd misjudged the situation completely, and managed to walk in on a private moment that he had no business witnessing. But how to escape without being seen?

Count's voice had just a touch of desperation.

"You don't understand," he said. "As much as I appreciate the… _ungh…_ gesture," he gasped as Branaugh's hand snaked under his shirt and stroked at his belly before slipping below his waistband. "I can't control myself anymore," he continued, panting, his eyes closing. "You're just going to get hurt... please..." He shuddered as Branaugh's hand began to move.

"And what if I want you to hurt me?" Branaugh said, sounding perfectly serious.

Count looked… wasted. That was the only way to describe it. Jonno couldn't help but feel respect for the amount of restraint he was showing. He hadn't moved an inch, although he was clearly desperate to reciprocate.

Jonno shifted, extremely uncomfortable—but found he couldn't look away.

"No, I don't... Robin, listen to what I'm saying. I can't stop myself from wanting your blood, and if we don't stop now, I'll… I mean, you'll change, you'll…." he seemed to be having difficulty organizing his thoughts. That probably had something to do with the hand in his pants.

"So don't stop now," Branaugh said quietly. He tilted his head, exposing his neck to Count's hungry gaze.

Jonno's eyes widened. They were really going to do that… here? Now?

His pulse quickened, and he glanced nervously at his bag of weapons.

"I want to stop," Count insisted, although his tone said otherwise. His eyes raked greedily over Branaugh's pale skin, and he licked his lips.

"No you don't," Branaugh denied, and frankly, Jonno had to agree with that assessment.

Jonno stood, stake in one hand and garlic gun in the other, ready to do what was necessary to stop them. He came out from under the bleachers at a run. The other two were apparently too absorbed in each other to notice him.

Jonno was barely ten metres away when it happened.

Branaugh ran a hand down his exposed neck, stopping at his shoulder. "Bite me," he ordered softly, and Count bent forward at once, latching onto the side of Branaugh's neck with the desperation of a dying man.

Jonno froze in place with stake raised, shocked. Count had really done it. He'd bitten Branaugh. And that meant….

Robin was going to get his wish after all.

The sound of fervent sucking broke Jonno's reverie. He charged forward, closing the distance between them; but before he could reach them, Branaugh fell to the ground, his eyes closed.

"Robin!" Count yelled. He was staring down at the other boy with horror.

He looked up, and Jonno shivered as their eyes met.

Jonno didn't wait for the vampire to react—he raised the pistol in his right hand, hitting the vampire square in the chest with garlic gas. But after barely a second, the gun malfunctioned, sputtering to a stop. Jonno shook it, then threw it to the ground, disgusted. Worthless piece of rubbish.

Even so, it seemed to be enough to do the job. Count shrieked, falling to his knees and clutching at his chest. Then he, too, collapsed to the ground and was motionless.

Jonno stared down at the both of them, his heart beating like crazy. Count wasn't a pile of ash, so he must still be alive.

He looked at the stake in his hand, his stomach reeling. He couldn't stake them; not like this. As much as he disliked them, they had been his classmates. He couldn't just stab them in the back, while they were out cold like this.

Still, he couldn't leave them here, either.

He crossed to Count first, whose wrists were still cuffed. Jonno examined the metal more closely. Pure argentallium, from the looks of it.

 _Good idea_ , he thought, impressed despite the gravity of the situation. He rifled through his bag, retrieving a net spun from argentallium wire, and draped it over Count's head. That should at least keep him under long enough to get the both of them to HQ.

Branaugh should be out for a while yet, although who knew for how much longer. The transformation took hours for some, minutes for others. He retrieved more of the netting from his bag and wrapped it around Branaugh's wrists, just to be safe. That way, neither of them could use their powers when they woke.

Now to get the van.

The ringing of a cell-phone startled Jonno; he glance at Count's pocket, where a soft light glowed through the fabric of his jeans. He ignored it, gripping Count by the ankle and beginning the arduous task of dragging him in the direction of the caravan.

Moments after Count's phone stopped ringing, a second alarm came from behind him. Branaugh's phone.

 _Chloe_ , Jonno thought with a sinking feeling. _Damn_. He needed to move fast, before she came looking for them.

She was never going to forgive him for this, he thought, and guilt twisted his insides.

 _You can't think like that_ , he lectured himself. Count and Branaugh were vampires now—blood-sucking monsters, an unacceptable threat to public safety. Count's behaviour tonight proved that he couldn't be trusted around people anymore.

When he had stuffed both of their bodies in the van—a bit of a struggle, although the adrenaline helped—he put his key in the ignition, and made sure he wasn't followed as he pulled out, making his way to the HQ's secret location.


End file.
